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BY   THE   SAME  AUTHOR. 


I.       The   Philosophy   of  English   Literature.       Lectures 

delivered  before  the  Lowell  Institute,  Boston.   i2mo,  cloth, $1.75 

IL     The  Principles  of  Psychology.     i2mo,  cloth,  .    .     .     1.75 

in.  Comparative  Psychology;  or,  the  Growth  and  Grades 

of  Litelligence.     i2mo, 1.75 

IV.  Science,  Philosophy  and  Religion.     i2mo,  cloth,  1.75 

V.  The  Philosophy  of  Religion  ;  or,  the  Rational  Grounds 

of  Religious  Belief.     i2mo,  cloth,  '  ,     .1.75 

VI.  The  Principles  of  Ethics.     i2mo,  cloth,      .     .     .     .     1,75 
VII. The  Principles  of   Natural   Theology.     i2mo,  cloth,  1.75 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York. 


THE 


SCIENCE   OF  MIND 


BY 


JOHN  BA8C0M 

AUTHOR  OF  "  J5STHETICS,"    "  PHILOSOPHY  OP  ENGLISH    LITERATURE,' 
"  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RELIGION  ",  "  ETHICS  " 


/I^.IBR  ARY^ 


UN  IVKL'SITV   OF 


^ 


CALIKr.l.'MA. 


\ 


^ 


NEW  YORK 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S    SONS 

27   AND  29  West   23d   Street 

1S81 


EDUC 

PSYCH. 

LIBRARY 


Copyright,  1881,  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

^^y&  /3 


PREFACE, 


It  has  been   a   reproach  to   philosophy,  generally  and 
persistently  pnt  forward,  that  it  makes   no   progress,  that 
it  lacks  established  elements,  that  it  is  a  field  of  extrava- 
gant and  contradictory  theories.     We  do  not  accept  these 
assertions  in  the  nnqualified  way  in  which  they  are  thrown 
out.     So  made,  they  are  the  result  of  ignorance  and  un- 
grounded  contempt  on  the  part  of  those  who    so   easily 
utter   them.      So   far,    however,   as   these   statements   are 
true,  they  are  a  common  reproach  and   misfortune,  to  be 
removed    only    by   more   patient,   more   protracted,   more 
guarded  inquiry.     To  scorn  and  reject  philosophy  as  pre- 
sented  under   its  own,  its   metaphysical   form,  subject   to 
its  own  conditions,  is  simply  to  deepen  the  difficulty,  and 
postpone  indefinitely  an  answer  to   the  most  fundamental 
and  central  inquiries.     If  more  than  the  usual  number  of 
mistakes  have  been  made  in  this  department,  it  is  because 
more  than  the  usual  obstacles  lie  in  the  path  of  progress. 
These  are  not  to  be    removed   by  discouragement,  or   by 
opening  ways  in  otlier  directions.    All  success  to  the  stu- 
dents of  physical  science :  but  each  of  its  fields  may  have 
its    triumphs,  and    the   secrets    of    mind  remain  as  unap- 
proachable as   hitherto.     With   philosophy  and   not  with- 
out it,  under   its  own  laws  and   not  under  the  laws  of   a 


IV  PREFACE. 

lower  realm,  must  be  found  tliose  clues  of  success,  those 
principles  of  investigation,  which  can  alone  place  this 
highest  form  of  knowledge  in  its  true  position.  The  fol- 
lowing treatise  is  at  least  a  patient  effort  to  make  a  con- 
tribution to  this,  amid  all  failures,  chief  department  of 
thought.  If  asked  why  I  hoped  this  volume  might  re- 
ward study,  I  should  answer,  Xot  because  the  system  pre- 
sented is  new,  but  because  the  statement  it  here  receives 
is  at  once  succinct  and  elaborate,  is  strengthened  by  new 
23oints,  by  a  consistent  maintenance  of  all  that  belongs  to 
it,  and  by  the  rejection  of  that  which,  essentially  alien 
to  its  principles,  only  embarrasses  it.  I  trust  the  Intui- 
tive Philosophy  will  be  found  hereby  to  have  gained 
somewhat  of  that  proof  which  springs  from  completeness 
and  proportion  of   parts. 

I  have  acknowledged  my  obligations  to  others  in  cases 
in  which  they  have  been  direct.  I  here  especially  ex- 
press my  indebtedness,  in  the  general  tone  of  the  philos- 
ophy presented,  to  the  eminent  explorer  and  instructor 
in  this  field.  Dr.  Hickok. 

Holding  my  work  amenable  to  thorough  criticism,  I 
shall  yet  expect  but  little  profit  from  the  facile  applica- 
tion of  previous  opinions  to  detached  points ;  or  from 
any  discussion  of  the  principles  involved  less  penetrative 
and  systematic  than  that  here  presented.  I  believe  this 
treatise  to  have  the  integrity  of  a  system,  and  to  call, 
therefore,  for  a  joint   and   complete    judgment.     To  such 

handling  I  hopefully  commend  it. 

In  the  present  edition  secondary  points  are  more  fully 

presented   than  before,  and  the  work    is  better  iitted    for 


PREFACE.  V 

the  purposes  of  instruction  in  higher  education.  I 
have  been  diffident  in  claiming  for  the  philosophy  here 
offered  the  independence,  coherence,  and  strength  which 
I  believe  belong  to  it.  As,  however,  I  am  zealous  for 
the  system,  and  have  found  critics  easily  overlooking 
points  not  forced  upon  their  notice,  I  now  invite  at- 
tention to  the  clear  definition  given  to  the  doctrine  of 
the  intuitions ;  to  (he  care  with  which  they  are  enu- 
merated, with  which  their  relations  to  each  other  are 
pointed  out,  and  their  constructive  office  in  thought  is 
assigned  them  ;  to  the  development  of  higher  powers  in 
connection  with  lower  ones ;  and  to  the  support  which 
liberty  receives  from  the  spontaneity  of  the  intellect. 
Herein  are  secured  a  certainty  of  conviction,  a  strength 
of  defense,  and  a  clearness  of  explanation,  not  other- 
w^ise  attainable.  The  system  lies  in  direct  continuation 
of  the  Intuitive  Philosophy,  but  is  put  upon  advanced 
ground,  in  a  form  more  self-sufficient  and  defensible  than 
hitherto. 


COISTTEE'TS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 

§  1.  Value  of  Philosophy 1 

§  2.  Determines  the  rank  of  Man 2 

§  3.  Correlative  of  physical  knowledge 4 

§  4.  Its  connection  with  moral  and  religious  truth G 

§  5.  Disparagement  of  metaphysics 8 

§  6.  Postulates  of  Philosophy 13 


BOOK  L—Tlie  Intellect. 

CHAPTER   I. 

THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL   SCIENCE   AND   ITS   DIVISIONS. 

§  1.  Field  of  Philosophy,  Consciousness 19 

§  2.  Difficulties  of  Philosophy 22 

§  3.  Aids  to  inquiry — Language — History — Physical  organs 27 

§  4.  Division  of  faculties 30 

§  5,  Volition  and  choice,  not  separable 31 

§  6.  The  relation  of  consciousness  to  our  faculties 33 

§  7.  Mental  phenomena  below  consciousness 34 

§  8.  Intelligence  and  consciousness. . .    46 

§  9.  Dependence  of  the  Mind  on  the  Brain 56 

§  10.  Abnormal  states,  Hypnotism 67 

§  11.  Physiological  and  mental  facts 69- 

§  12.  Is  the  mind  always  conscious  ? 72. 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  INTELLECT — ITS  DIVISIONS — PERCEPTION. 

§  1.  Divisions 79 

§  2.  The  Senses — Perception 80 

S  3.  What  do  we  see? 82, 


viii  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


^  4.  Perception  and  common  conviction 91 

§  5.  The  doctrine  of  direct  perception 94 

§  G.  Direct  perception  and  consciousness 99 

§  7.  The  action  of  each  sense , ^01 

§  8.  Importance  of  perception — History 107 

§  9.  Primary  and  secondary  qualities— Criteria  of 110 

§  10.  Consciousness  as  a  source  of  knowledge 123 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE  r^TDERSTANDING. 

§  1.  What  the  understanding  includes — Memory 125 

§  2.  Theories  of  memory— Hamilton's  theory 128 

§  3.  Association  as  connected  with  memory— Habit— Growth 133 

§  4.  Qualities  of  memory— Kinds  of  memory 136 

§  5.  Imagination 1'*-' 

g  6.  Theories  of  imagination— Bain — Hamilton 143 

J5  7.  Influence  of  imagination  on  passions — On  judgment 147 

§  8.  How  cultivated— The  word  conception lol 

§  9.  The  judgment- Importance  of l''>2 

i^  10.  Nature  of  judgments l-^O 

g  11.  Erroneous  views  of  judgment— Sir  William  Hamilton KiO 

§  12.  Judgments,  classes  of 1^^ 

§  13.  A  second  use  of  the  word  conceive 1"0 

§  14.  J  udgment  and  association 1 '  ^ 

CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  KEASON. 

§  1.  Disagreement  as  to  existence  of  this  faculty 17G 

§  2.  Existence— Bain 1'^^ 

§  8.  Number 1^5^ 

§  4.  Resemblance ^^'^ 

§5.  Space ''^^ 

tj  6.  Consciousness ~^'- 

t^  7.  Time ~^'^ 

S  S.  Cause  and  eflPect -^'''^ 

§  9.  Spontaneity '—^ 

I  10.  Truth --^ 

^  11.  Right -~^ 

:§  12.  Beauty -^" 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

§  13.  iDfinite  .    243 

§  14.  Criteria  of  regulative  ideas 204 

j^  15.  Objective  character 250 

vi^  16.  Not  to  be  referred  to  inheritance 2G0 

§  17.  Grouped  in  their  relations 203 

§  18.  Have  all  been  given  ? 265 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DYNAMICS   OF   THE   INTELLECT. 

§  1.  Growth  of  mind 268 

§  2.  Acquisition  of  knowledge — Resemblance 278 

§  3.  Sensation — Judgment — Reasoning 283 

§  4.  The  control  of  the  mind  over  its  phenomena 290 

^  5.  Diflterence  of  endowment  in  man  and  in  the  animal 296 


BOOK  II.— The  Feelings, 

§  1.  Distinction  between  feelings  and  thoughts 306 

§  2.  Division  of  the  feelings — Use  of  words.  .^ , 309 

CHAPTER   I. 

PHYSICAL  FEELINGS. 

§  1.  Division  of  the  physical  feelings 312 

§  2.  General  sensations 313 

§  3.  Special  sensations 315 

§  4.  Appetites — Purposes  subserved  by  sensations 317 

CHAPTER    II. 

THE  INTELLECTUAL   FEELINGS. 

§  1.  Divisions — Desires — Not  primitive — Division  of 322 

§  2.  Feelings  dependent  on  desires — On  success 329 

§  3.  Feeling^s  which  accompany  failure 332 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    III. 

THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

PAGE 

§  1.  What  these  are— Their  divisions— Truth  337 

§  2.  .Esthetical  feelings 342 

^  3.  Moral  sentiments — Effect  on  other  emotions 346 

§  4.  Affections — Religious  sentiments 350 

S  5.  Classification  of  the  feelings 352 

^CHAPTER   IV. 

DYNAMICS  OP   THE   FEELINGS. 


§  1.  Oflfices  of  the  several  classes  of  feeling 355 

§  2.  Order  of  development  in  the  three  classes  successive 357 

§  3.  Communities  take  up  the  law  of  growth 359 

§  4.  Animal  life  in  its  feelings — Utilitarianism 361 

§  5.  Laws  that  control  the  feelings 363 


BOOK  IIL—The  Will. 

%  1.  Relations  of  the  will — Subdivisions 369 

CHAPTER   I. 

THE  NERVOUS   SYSTEM. 

§  1.  General  relations  of  the  nervous  system 371 

§  2.  Life  as  plastic  power 372 

§  3.  Parts  of  a  nervous  system 373 

§  4.  Various  forms  of  a  nervous  system 375 

CHAPTER   n. 

THE   NERVOUS   SYSTEM   OP   MAN. 

§  1.  Principal  parts 378 

§  2.  Offices  of  each  part 381 

§  3.  Forma  of  nervous  action 35S5 

§  4.  Cerebrum  in  man 387 


CONTEJSTS.  xi 

CHAPTER   III. 

EXECUTIVE  VOLITION. 

PAGE 

§  1.  Executive  volitions 391 

§  2.  Interaction  of  voluntary  and  involuntary  stimuli 392 

§  3.  Relation  of  voluntary  and  involuntary  action 394 

§  4.  Relation  of  cerebral  action  and  thought , .  398 

CHAPTER  IV. 

PRIMARY  VOLITION,    OR  CHOICE. 

§  1.  Divisions  of  volitions 400 

§  2.  Choice , 401 

§  3.  Motives  must  be  unlike  in  kind — A  moral  element 403 

§  4.  The  will  governed  by  the  strongest  motive 404 

§  5.  Effect  of  liberty  and  responsibility  of  this  view 407 

§  6.  Whence  the  idea  of  weaker  and  stronger  motives 408 

§  7.  Objected  to  liberty  that  it  admits  no  control 409 

§  8.  Proof  of  liberty — Not  found  in  consciousness 411 

§  9.  Proof  of  liberty — Spontaneity 417 

§  10.  Proofs  summarized 421 

CHAPTEk    V. 

DYNAMICS  OF  THE  WILL  AND   OF  THE  MIND. 

§  1.  The  will  strengthened  by  use 425 

§  2.  Order  of  activities — Reflex  relation. 426 

§  3.  Control  exercised  by  the  will 428 

§  4,  The  feelings  central — Their  relations  to  pleasure 430 

CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  RELATIONS  OP  THE   SYSTEMS   HERE   OFFERED  TO  PREVALENT 

FORMS   OF   PHILOSOPHY. 

§  1.  Value  of  general  convictions 434 

§  2.  Materialism — Its  a  priori  character 440 

§  3.  Hamilton — Direct  perception 445 

§  4.  Idealism — Excellences — Defects 447 

§  5.  The  philosophy  now  presented — Its  relations 450 

§  6.  Divisions  of  Philosophy 454 


'^ '  '^  U  A  u  Y 
INTRODUCTION. 


§  1.  Though  a  knowledge  of  the  value  of  a  subject 
is  not  necessary  to  its  successful  pursuit,  yet  it  imparts 
to  our  inquiries  peculiar  zest.  We  shall  never  fully 
understand  the  advantages  connected  with  any  science, 
till  we  have  mastered  it;  and  it  is  thus  natural  that 
each  should  praise  his  own  favorite  23ursuit,  experiencing 
daily  the  enjoyment  and  power  it  confers.  Kor  is  this 
commendation  usually,  in  itself  considered,  excessive;  it 
is  chiefly  at  fault,  as  it  disparages  other  investigations, 
in  themselves  possessed  of  rival  claims.  As  the  fashion 
of  thought  in  our  time  is  to  underrate  philosophy,  a 
brief  space  bestowed  to  urging  its  importance  w^ill  not 
be  misemployed. 

We  shall  not  enlarge  on  the  pre-eminent  mental  dis- 
cipline it  gives,  the  acuteness  of  analysis,  the  steadiness 
of  attention,  the  breadth  of  principles.  All  study  im- 
parts more  or  less  of  this  training,  and  some  are  willing 
to  believe  that  metaphysics  bestows  an  unprofitable  sub- 
tility  of  intellect,  a  gymnastic  dexterity  of  thouglit, 
more  fit  for  show  than  service,  more  likely  to  mislead 
than  guide  their  possessors.  There  are  certain  peculiar 
and  pre-eminent  considerations  on  w^hicli  we  would 
chiefly  rest  our  estimate  of  philosophy. 

The  facts  which  it  furnishes  are  most  intimate  to  our 
own  actions,  to  the  mastery  and  ordering  of  our  own 
thoudits,  and  to  the  influence  we  are  to  exert  over  others. 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

It  is  indeed  possible,  that  there  should  be  healthy  and  suc- 
cessful intellectual  action,  a  wise  play  of  the  emotions  and 
of  the  moral  nature,  without  understanding  them.  •  So  may 
there  be  physical  health  without  hygiene ;  yet  who  Avill 
deny  an  influence  of  the  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  life  in 
the  government  of  life  1  To  pick  up  a  few  facts  so  per- 
sonal, so  of  our  very  selves,  as  those  which  pertain  to  mind, 
cannot  but  be  of  the  highest  moment  in  ordering  our  ac- 
tion. Indeed,  every  man  who  has  any  claims  to  general 
knowledge  is  a  philosopher,  however  much  he  may  deny 
it,  and  however  false  and  limited  his  conclusions  may  be. 
It  is  not  a  question  whether  there  shall  be  philosophy 
among  men ;  this  there  must  be,  if  men  are  to  think  and 
act  at  all ;  but  whether  this  philosophy  shall  be  a  true 
or  false  one.  Yet  we  do  not  wish  to  dwell  on  the  value 
even  of  the  facts  which  mental  science  gives,  their  direct 
practical  worth  in  affording  rules  for  intellectual  training, 
and  for  influence  over  others ;  but  rather  to  point  out  cer- 
tain broader  relations  of  philosophy,  wdiich  make  its  acqui- 
sition yet  more  imperative. 

§  2.  In  the  first  place,  no  true  notion  of  the  dignity  of 
man  w^ill  be  attained  without  it.  If  we  consider  man  ex- 
clusively in  his  external  relations,  in  his  physical  organiza- 
tion, and  the  ministration  of  nature  to  him,  though  we  shall 
certainly  assign  him,  if  we  reflect  wisely,  a  pre-eminent  po- 
sition, we  shall  by  no  means  measure  his  true  worth.  The 
forces  and  lives  of  the  world  grade  up  to  him,  and  grade 
down  from  him ;  and  while  he  is  the  highest  and  latest  of 
living  tilings,  lie  is  nevertheless  of  them,  ruling  by  a  supe- 
riority, not  by  a  complete  separation,  of  nature.  The  body 
of  man  is  very  perfect ;  but  those  other  organisms  are  also 
in  kind  marvellous.  The  brain  of  man  is  very  large ;  but 
those  other  l)rains  are  large  also,  and  apparently  thoughtful. 
Having  travelled  in  classification  all  the  way  up  from  in- 


DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  3 

fusoria,  the  last  strides  of  progress,  great  as  tliey  are,  do  not 
impress  us  as  throwing  man  out  of  the  general  range  and 
fortunes  of  the  life  of  which  he  makes  a  part. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  those  whose  attention  has  been 
most  external  in  its  objects,  who  have  studied  nature,  and 
man  in  nature,  have  held  comparatively  disparaging  views 
of  the  rank  of  the  human  race.  They  have  put  it  in  the 
direct  line  of  development  with  the  life  below  it ;  they 
have  thought  it  to  share  its  intellectual  and  moral  endow- 
ments with  the  higher  animals ;  and  they  have  subjected  it, 
in  common  with  all  life,  to  the  fatalistic  lock  of  physical 
forces.  Ap23roaching  man  from  below,  w^e  interpret  him 
from  the  types  of  power  w^e  find  in  nature,  we  limit  his 
liberty  or  rob  him  of  it,  we  expound  his  moral  nature  by 
the  law  of  utility,  so  obtrusive  in  the  acquisition  of  physical 
good ;  w^hile  we  seem  to  find  the  germ  and  outline  of  his 
intellectual  constitution  in  brute  instincts,  perceptions,  asso- 
ciations. We  are  thus  as  those  who  contemplate  in  a  statue 
more  the  pedestal  on  which  it  rests,  the  marble  of  which  it 
is  made,  the  measurements  to  which  it  conforms,  than  the 
living,  spiritual  power  it  exj^resses. 

There  is  no  adequate  defence  against  this  tendency,  no 
reasoning  man  out  of  this  grasp  of  scientific  classification, 
from  the  position  of  bimana  among  quadrumana,  from  his 
rank  as  co-ordinate  in  structure  with  the  gibbering  mon- 
key, the  grinning  chimpanzee,  the  brute-headed  gorilla, 
except  through  philosophy — without  reversing  the  2:)rocess, 
beginning  at  the  top  and  moving  downward — without  con- 
sidering that  which  is  internal,  and  overshadowing  with 
it,  transient,  external  conditions.  Suppose,  for  instance,  as 
the  result  of  such  direct,  independent  inquiry,  it  is  found 
that  liberty  belongs  to  man,  a  power  altogether  unique, 
with  no  prediction  or  type  in  nature  ;  that  the  moral  intui- 
tion, the  necessary  accompaniment  of  freedom,  transforming 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

it  into  self-poised,  responsible  life,  is  equally  independent 
and  primary  ;  do  we  not  in  these  two  pillars  of  personality 
discover  supports  wliieli  lift  the  spiritual  life  into  an  en- 
tirely new  region,  which  cannot  be  broken  by  all  the  blind 
giants  of  simple,  physical  induction  that  may  bow  them- 
selves against  them  ?  If  also  it  shall  appear  that  the  intel- 
lectual action  of  man  is  throughout  different  in  kind  from 
that  of  the  animal ;  that  we  have  no  ]3roof  that  the  truly 
rational  elements  of  thought  ever  enter  the  lower  field  of 
life,  ever  transform  association.s  into  comprehension,  then 
shall  wC;  again  see,  that  we  have  reached  a  new  j)lane ;  not 
the  completion  of  that  which  is  below,  but  the  commence- 
ment of  that  which  is  above  ;  not  to  be  explained  from  the 
earth  upwards,  but  from  the  heavens  downwards. 

To  estimate  man  outwardly,  physically,  is  to  judge  a 
temple  from  the  exterior,  is  to  decide  upon  it  by  the  order 
of  its  architecture,  the  bevel  of  its  stones,  the  greatness  of 
its  Avorkmanship,  without  entering  its  shrine,  seeing  its 
worship,  or  studying  its  ritual.  So  to  judge  man  is  as  if 
we  should  pronounce  on  the  supernatural  claims  of  Christ 
by  an  inquiry  into  his  human  features  and  Jewish  charac- 
teristics, in  perfect  oversight  of  the  subject  matter  of  the 
question.  Man  is  to  rank  according  to  his  spiritual  consti- 
tution, and  that  it  is  the  office  of  philosophy,  and  philosophy 
alone,  to  inquire  into.  We  must  go  within  the  mind,  see 
its  structure  and  appliances,  before  we  can  know  the  dig- 
nity of  the  race.  If  this  is  denied  us,  if  these  portals  are 
locked  against  us,  we  can  only  remain  mute  till  the  key 
shall  be  brought  us. 

§  3.  The  second  great  office  of  philosophy  is  to  fur- 
nish a  counterpoise,  a  complement  and  corrective  to  the 
methods  of  natural  science.  It  is  not  because  we  overlook 
the  legitimacy  and  practical  value  of  these  methods,  nor  be- 
cause we  disparage  induction,  a  chief  builder  in  the  tem- 


COMPLEMENTART  TRUTHS.  5 

pie  of  knowledge,  one  that  has  commenced  and  is  carrying 
briskly  onward  some  of  its  most  showy  and  serviceable  por- 
tions, that  we  nrge  the  rank  of  philosophy ;  l)ut  for  this  end, 
that  the  two  may  be  seen  to  be  truly  supplemental  each  to 
each,  that  the  arrogance  of  science  and  its  supercilious  de- 
nials may  be  seen  to  so  cut  down  the  scope  of  human  facul- 
ties and  hopes  as  to  make  knowledge  itself  comparatively 
trivial  and  nugatory.  It  is  the  nature  of  the  mind  that 
knows  that  gives  significancy  to  knowing,  and  if  this  term, 
the  one  most  intimate  to  ourselves,  in  w^iich  alone  we  are 
deej^ly  concerned,  is  to  be  excluded  from  knowledge ;  if  the 
disembodied  spirit,  the  mind  itself,  is  to  be  left  wandering 
in  the  limbo  of  things  forever  uncertain  and  unknowable, 
then,  indeed,  is  it  a  most  minute  and  unsatisfactory  gain, 
that  our  unexplored  and  unfathomed  powers  lay  hold  for 
a  little  of  the  things  about  them ;  a  small  matter  that  the 
stream,  rushing  on,  we  know  not  w^hither,  yields  a  troubled 
reflection  of  the  shrubs  on  its  banks. 

We  claim  that  the  knowledge  that  centres  directly  in 
mind,  in  its  moral  and  intellectual  powers,  and  in  the  social, 
civil,  and  religious  actions  that  arise  immediately  from 
them,  is  a  full  half  of  all  knowledge  ;  and  that  the  methods 
of  reasoning  employed  in  these  departments,  while  very 
different  from  the  naked  inductions  of  science,  constitute 
the  nobler  moiety  of  intellectual  life.  We  urge  attention 
to  philosophy,  because  the  sphere  of  thought  cannot  be 
complete  without  it,  cannot  be  rounded  into  a  w^ell-balanced 
and  stable  orb. 

If  there  has  been  one  development  more  preposterous 
than  all  others  in  the  growth  of  knowledge,  tliat  develop- 
ment is  Positive  Philosophy — a  scheme  that  scouts  meta- 
physics, and  yet  can  do  it  on  no  other  than  metaphysical 
grounds ;  that  determines  what  may  be  know^n  and  what 
may  not  be  known,  and  puts  among  the  things  to  be  dis- 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

carded  the  knowing  faculties ;  that  uses  philosophy  to  ex- 
plode pliilosophy,  and  on  the  ground  thus  cleared  builds  up 
a  cobble-house  of  facts,  every  one  of  whose  connections 
must  yet  be  as  purely  intellectual  as  those  of  mental  science 
itself.  Tliis  is  as  if  the  eye,  failing  to  look  backward  as 
well  as  forward,  inward  as  well  as  outward,  should  deny 
the  existence  of  anything  in  that  direction,  and  affirm  the 
objects  before  itself  to  be  ultimate,  the  only  resolution  of 
facts  into  ideas.  To  save  ii«  from  such  pitiful  philoso- 
phizing, we  need  philosophy. 

We  are,  then,  in  a  peculiar  want  of  this  branch  of 
knowledge,  since  it  is  a  hemisphere  of  itself,  holding  in 
equipoise  the  world  of  truth  ;  since  in  it  are  found  new 
regulative  ideas,  new  laws,  new  lines  of  order,  and  also  the 
tests  of  the  validity  of  knowledge,  and  the  rational  grounds 
on  which  the  limits  of  inquiry  are  established.  Patches  of 
truth  may  be  given  here  and  there  by  science,  but  land- 
marks, a  synthetic  rendering  of  the  w^hole,  can  only  be  se- 
cured by  the  aid  of  philosophy. 

§  4.  A  last  reason  we  shall  urge  for  these  lines  of  inves- 
tigation is,  that  intelligent  moral  action  and  religious  faith 
must  rest  upon  them.  Fortunately,  considering  the  prem- 
ises from  which  they  start,  men  are  so  illogical,  that  they 
find  no  difficulty  in  believing  much  which  in  consistency 
they  ought  not  to  believe,  no  difficulty  in  doing  that  for 
which  their  own  philosophy  can  render  them  no  adequate 
reasons.  But  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there  is  often  an 
interior  coherence  in  action,  in  the  unconscious  workings 
of  our  constitution,  which  does  not  appear  in  our  reason- 
ings, a  false,  deficient  philosophy  will,  from  time  to  time, 
come  to  tlie  surface  in  unbelief,  irreligion,  immorality ; 
the  ground  will  soften  under  long  trodden  paths  of  faith ; 
and  many  blind  pilgrims,  plunged  into  an  unexpected  quag- 
mire, will  fail  to  reach  the  farther  shore.     All  the  ideas  on 


FUNDAMENTAL    TRUTHS.  T 

vvliicli  morality  and  religion  rest  are  established  and  de- 
fined in  the  realm  of  metaphysics,  and  to  deny  ns  this 
branch  of  knowledge,  or  to  treat  it  slightly,  is  to  put  ns,  in 
the  conflict  with  unbelief,  at  such  disadvantage  that  we 
can  never  maintain  our  ground.  We  may,  indeed,  shut  our 
eyes,  and  stand  fast ;  we  may  stop  our  ears,  and  run  from 
tiie  questionings  and  claims  of  scepticism;  but  we  cannot 
maintain  our  position  in  quiet  and  serene  conviction,  with- 
out searching  for  those  foundations  of  truth  found  in  tlie 
discarded  field  of  philosophy. 

The  nature  of  right  and  its  obligations,  of  liberty  and 
its  responsibilities,  of  the  infinite  in  its  application  to  God, 
as  well  as  the  positive  and  negative  knowledge  we  have  of 
his  existence  and  attributes,  are  to  be  established  by  an 
inquiry  into  the  phenomena  of  mind,  the  truths  present 
to  it,  their  source  and  authority.  To  hope,  therefore,  for 
morality  and  religion,  and  yet  to  sink  out  of  sight  those 
abutments  on  wliich  they  are  to  rest,  is  infatuation.  Those 
do  not  so  hope  who  wittingly  do  this  work  of  denial  and 
overthrow— quite  the  contrary.  Yery  many  of  them  well 
understand  that  their  mines  run  beneath  the  sacred  edi- 
fices of  religion,  the  spiritual  labors  and  history  of  the 
race,  and  that,  if  they  can  be  fully  and  successfully  fired, 
these  w^ill  sink,  a  mass  of  ruins,  into  a  black,  sulphureous 
chasm.  We  see,  therefore,  that  the  intellectual  battle  be- 
tween belief  and  unbelief,  religion  and  irreligion,  nmst 
be  fought,  in  large  part,  in  the  fields  of  philosophy.  The 
truths  of  revelation  niust  be  vindicated  or  overthrown  by 
their  relation  to  man's  constitution,  his  powers  of  knowl- 
edge and  obedience,  and  the  rational  stretch  of  his  hopes. 

Simple,  then,  are  the  reasons  for  philosophy,  if  philoso- 
phy be  possible.  We  must  abandon  ourselves  later  than  all 
things  else,  consent  to  darkness  everywhere,  if  we  can  only 
strike  a  cheerful  light  at  this  fireside  of  our  home.     Uur 


8  INTROD  UUTIOIf. 

fortunate,  indeed,  would  it  be  to  lose  the  reins  of  power 
wlierewitli  we  guide  the  forces  of  nature,  but  far  more  un- 
fortunate to  miss  the  right  handling  of  ourselves,  and  that 
serene  strength  which  wins  tlie  rewards  of  life. 

§  5.  But  is  philosophy  possible  ?  Is  there  not  rather 
foundation  for  those  many  taunts  and  denials,  asserting  the 
endless,  hopeless  round  of  conflicting  tlieories,  the  entire 
want  of  progress,  the  inevitable  uncertainty  attaching  to 
every  conclusion,  and  all  conclusions,  in  metaphysics  ?  If 
philosophy  be  not  possible,  if  there  is  ground  for  the  scorn 
and  incredulity  with  which  labor  in  this  department  is 
often  regarded,  so  nmch  the  worse  for  us  all.  JN'othing  can 
take  the  place  of  philosophy.  If  we  are  doomed  to  igno- 
rance here,  our  ignorance  is  hopeless  and  pitiable.  We 
fail  to  understand  the  satisfaction  with  which  some  snuff 
out  this  light,  when  they  have  nothing  wherewith  to  replace 
it — nothing  better  to  propose  than  the  desertion  of  this 
whole  region,  and  a  surrender  of  it  to  confusion  and  chaos. 
The  injunction,  "Know  thyself,"  the  revered  precept  of 
all  time  hitherto,  thus  becomes  impossible,  and  to  modern 
thinkers,  ridiculous.  Outside  of  ourselves,  we  move  with 
patient  inquiry  ;  we  may  feed  our  senses,  and  through  them 
the  mind ;  but  we  harvest  home  this  knowledge,  we  know- 
not  for  what  ends.  We  gather  facts,  ignorant  of  their  ul- 
terior, spiritual  uses,  as  the  ox  grazes,  letting  digestion  and 
nutrition  care  for  themselves.  We  see  no  grounds  for  con- 
gratulation in  such  a  result.  If  it  must  be  accepted,  it  yet 
remains  a  painful  and  sad  alternative,  turning  the  key  in 
a  door  which  above  all  others  we  would  fain  open^  hiding 
from  us  things  which  most  reveal  the  invisible  world.  It 
is  as  if  some  one,  moiling  long  and  patiently  and  profita- 
bly in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  knowing  how  to  pick  and 
blast  and  shovel,  and  sure  of  the  productiveness  of  those 
processes,  should,  hearing  of  the    miscarriages,  accidents, 


SCIENCE  RESTRICTED.  9 

and  embarrassments  of  the  npper  world,  begin  to  deny  this 
region  to  himself  and  to  others,  and  to  make  it  the  dogma 
of  his  life,  that  there  was  but  one  form  of  sure,  safe,  and  re- 
munerative labor,  but  one  unmistakable  and  positive  good, 
and  that  was  mining.  We  console  ourselves,  in  view  of 
such  conclusions,  with  their  entire  falsitv,  and  the  utter  im- 
possibility of  their  general  acceptance. 

Other  departments,  moreover,  besides  philosoj^hy,  are  to 
suffer  from  this  rejection  of  the  philosophical  spirit.  Tlie 
positive  sciences  themselves  require  for  their  successful 
cultivation  something  beyond  an  observation  of  facts — a 
classification  of  resemblances.  There  is  ever  kept  hover- 
ing before  the  mind  some  idea  of  the  causes,  the  concealed 
grounds  and  reasons,  of  phenomena;  and  it  is  these 
supersensual  notions  which  guide  inquiry,  direct  the  eye, 
and  teach  it  what  to  observe.  Without  these,  the  classi- 
fications of  science  would  come  to  little  more  than  the 
child's  art  in  grouping  its  bits  of  crockery  by  size  or  color 
or  the  conceits  of  fancy.  It  has  been,  for  illustration,  some 
notion  of  the  nature  of  light,  either  as  a  material  emana- 
tion, or  a  movement  in  a  generally  diffused  ether,  that  has 
directed  inquiry,  instituted  experiments,  and  interpreted 
facts.  Yet  there  is  nothing  in  philosophy  itself  more 
subtile,  more  imj)Ossible  of  conception,  more  evasive  and 
evanescent  than  either  of  these  supersensual  conceptions, 
which  have  presided  over  this  department,  and  resulted  in 
most  brilliant  discoveries.  Deny  a  search  into  intangible 
and  inconceivable  causes,  causes  that  in  their  inception  are 
jmrely  theoretical,  and  we  lose  at  once  the  clew  of  our 
labyrinth,  and  hencefortli  w^ander  at  chance,  with  no  fore- 
cast of  thought,  through  its  endless  passages.  Another 
illustration  is  furnished  by  the  correlation  of  forces.  Some 
notion  of  a  hidden  equivalence  between  very  diverse 
phenomena  haunts  the  mind,   of   a  concealed   agreement 


10  INTROl)  UCTION. 

where  no  apparent  agreement  exists.  This  it  is  which  sets 
the  inquirer  at  work,  quickens  his  thoughts,  and  leads  him 
to  new  observations  and  experiments.  An  idea  of  a  super- 
sensible thing  termed  force,  is  j^resent  to  the  mind.  For 
this  force  in  its  very  diverse  forms,  as  mechanical  action, 
heat,  electric  action,  chemical  action,  it  strives  to  find  a 
measure,  and  so  to  establish  an  equation  between  these  dif- 
ferent expressions  by  virtue  of  this  their  common  term. 
Fruitful  as  this  inquiry  has  been  in  science,  it  turns  on  an 
interpretation  of  things  quite  inscrutable  to  the  senses. 

But  how  vain  is  it  to  demand  positive,  direct  knowl- 
edge through  the  senses  of  this  notion  itself,  so  serviceable 
and  indispensable?  If  we  are  to  banish,  as  the  ghosts  of 
past  superstitions,  all  the  disembodied  ideas  the  mind  fur- 
nishes to  positive  science,  we  shall  shortly  be  left  without 
guidance,  deserted  of  these  good  angels  of  thought,  in 
whose  absence  eyes  and  ears  are  of  no  avail.  We  are  in 
science,  no  less  than  in  philosophy,  constantly  reaching  and 
handling  supersensual  notions,  purely  mental  j^henomena ; 
we  are  ever  making  them  most  fruitful  sources  of  further 
acquisitions,  though  certainly  with  no  more  full,  definite, 
and  positive  knowledge  of  their  very  nature  than  that  we 
possess  of  mental  phenomena  from  consciousness.  Indeed, 
the  moment  we  penetrate  a  very  little  below  the  surface. 
Positive  Philosophy  is  of  the  same  nature  with  that  which 
it  discards,  is  dealing  with  causes,  forces,  and  reasons  which 
are  wholly  the  offs^^ring  of  the  mind,  and  the  limits  of 
whose  legitimate  use  must  be  determined  on  purely  intel- 
lectual grounds. 

Kor  is  philosophy  itself  without  its  fixed,  settled  facts, 
as  generally  admitted  and  as  incontrovertible  as  those  of 
any  science  whatever.  The  laws  of  recollection,  attention, 
judgment,  imagination,  of  the  emotions,  of  responsibility, 
constitute   a    large    department  of    accepted    conclusions. 


ACCEPTED   TRUTUS.  II 

The  2)rinciples  and  precepts  therein  involved  are  running 
hourly  through  our  processes  of  reasoning,  our  persuasion, 
our  judicial  action,  our  social  opinions.  Indeed,  no  single 
science,  unless,  perhaps,  we  except  mathematics,  is  furnish- 
ing so  many,  so  constant,  so  undoubted  guides,  both  to 
those  who  maintain,  and  to  those  wlio  deny,  its  theoretical 
A'alue,  as  philosophy,  with  its  adjuncts  of  logic,  aesthetics 
and  ethics.  Totally  untrue,  then,  is  the  representation  that 
metaphysics  is  a  hopeless  medley  of  contradictory  and  un- 
verified theories.  An  appearance  of  truth  is  given  to  this 
assertion  by  directing  attention  from  established  facts  to 
those  skirting  and  partially  explored  fields  of  ontological 
inquiry,  of  the  sources  of  our  mental  furniture,  and  of  the 
authority  of  our  faculties.  We  might  thus  discredit  the 
established  facts  of  electricity  on  the  ground  of  conflicting 
ojDinions  concerning  the  nature  of  the  activities  or  physical 
states  which  constitute  it. 

ISTow,  it  is  evident,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  that  more 
of  these  ultimate  questions,  more  of  these  points  at  which 
direct,  sensible  knowledge  ends,  must  belong  to  philosophy 
than  to  any  other  branch.  The  postulates  and  definitions 
of  knowledge  are  conditioned  on  the  faculties  of  mind,  and 
to  state  these  in  their  safe,  ultimate  form  ;  to  settle  where 
knowing,  in  all  its  phases,  begins,  and  to  give  the  reasons 
and  grounds  of  these  statements,  is  a  late  and  difiicult  task, 
and  one  which  should  not,  by  its  laborious  and  partial  re- 
sults, prejudice  a  department  which  is  highest  in  rank,  as 
it  is  most  recondite  and  ultimate  in  its  conclusions. 

What  act  more  indolent  and  unscientific  than  to  jump  to 
the  conclusion,  that  these  deepest  questions  are  unsearchable 
and  fruitless — than  to  turn  our  back  on  a  reo-.ion  that  does 
not  at  once  yield  its  secrets  ?  ISTor  are  we  without  progress 
in  these  most  obscure  directions  of  philosophical  inquiry. 
In  some  cases,  the  true  conditions  of  the  problem  are  bet- 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

ter  seen — what  is  to  be  hoped  for  and  what  not ;  in  others, 
the  grounds  of  attack  and  defence  are  shifted.  Many 
arguments  and  presentations  have  been  exploded,  and, 
though  others  have  taken  their  place,  there  has  been  pro- 
gress, progress  toward  an  ultimate  decision.  The  battle 
surges  and  rolls  onward,  and  is  not  endless.  The  doctrine 
of  human  liberty  is  an  example  of  the  first  sort.  A  more 
consistent  statement  of  what  it  involves  can  to-day  be  made 
than  ever  before.  It  can  be  better  distinguished  from 
every  form  of  necessity,  and  set  apart  with  proper  limits, 
and  more  defensible  boundaries  than  hitherto.  To  be  sure 
we  cannot  explain  freedom  in  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the 
word,  but  we  can  see  why  such  explanations  are  not,  and 
ought  not,  to  be  applicable.  As  an  illustration  of  the 
second  form  of  progress,  we  instance  the  discussions  as  to 
the  sources  of  knowledge ;  whether  among  these  are  in- 
tuitive ideas.  The  doctrine,  that  experience  is  the  ground 
of  all  knowledge,  is  a  very  different  one  in  the  hands  of 
Spencer  and  Bain  from  what  it  was  as  expounded  by  Locke. 
The  latter  champions  pronounce  the  earlier  proofs  and  de- 
fences insufficient.  Confessedly,  then,  this  school  has  been 
driven  in  part  from  its  line  of  argument.  Herein  is  move- 
ment, looking  to  an  ultimate  solution  of  the  problem. 
Though  inner  lines  succeed  one  another,  the  city  cannot  be 
besieged  forever.  The  grounds  of  conflict  and  the  balance 
of  strength  are  suffering  daily  changes,  and  though  the  con- 
clusion may  be  yet  far  off,  we  see  that  it  is  slowly  j)repared 
for  by  what  occurs  about  us.  This  discussion  is  not  simply 
the  dogged  reiteration  of  affirmation  and  denial ;  the  strik- 
ing of  shadowy  forms  with  immaterial  w^eapons,  the  wounds 
of  to-day  closing  against  the  battle  of  to-morrow.  Quite 
the  reverse ;  old  points  are  yielded,  new  points  are  made  ; 
light  in  turn  is  thrown  upon  these,  and  we  move  forward 
toward  a  conclusion — move  slowly  it  may  be,  but  as  cer- 


POSTULATES.  13 

tainly  as  when  tlie  discussion  pertains  to  the  nature  of  heat 
or  light.  Eeid  dogmatically  asserted  as  a  tenet  of  common 
sense  what  philosophy  ever  since  has  been  defending,  limit- 
ing, settling  on  rational  grounds. 

Much  work,  indeed,  remains  to  be  done.  The  grounds 
of  reasoning  are  to  be  more  definitely  fixed  in  this  higher 
department;  the  logic  of  philosophy  to  be  unfolded,  re- 
straining erratic,  fanciful  movement,  bending  effort  to 
fruitful  results,  and  urging  discussion  to  a  speedy  issue. 

If  the  inductive  sciences  owe  so  much  to  a  new  orga- 
num,  a  new  form  of  logic,  and  that,  too,  to  one  lacking  the 
strict  proof  of  previous,  deductive  branches  of  inquiry,  is  it 
not  rational  to  expect  that  further  modifications  of  method, 
a  new  estimate  of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  the  proof  ap- 
plicable to  the  unique  and  remote  questions  of  metaphysics 
will  be  equally  productive,  will  yield  fresh  fruits  to  wiser 
investigation. 

§  6.  Before  proceeding  to  the  facts  of  philosophy,  I 
wish  to  lay  down  a  few  of  its  postulates  most  frequently 
violated.  First,  all  phenomena  of  mind,  as  facts  of  some 
order,  demand  sufticient  causes  for  their  existence.  These 
phenomena  are  by  no  means  of  equal  significance  in  what 
they  indicate,  are  not  all  normal,  but  they  are  all  facts,  and 
may  not  any  of  them  be  overlooked  by  any  sound  philoso- 
phy. We  may  not  select  a  portion,  and  reject  a  portion  as 
the  result  of  some  vague  and  vaporing  process  which  we 
have  chosen  to  decry..  We  have  disposed  of  no  facts  by 
calling  them  metaphysical  or  theological  or  any  other  name 
expressive  of  disapprobation.  The  entire  facts  of  mind 
must  be  stated,  accepted,  and  harmoniously  covered  by  the 
theories  of  mind.  The  same  test  applies  here  as  in  physics, 
the  ability  of  the  explanation  offered  to  expound  all  the 
phenomena  that  come  under  its  consideration. 

A  second  postulate  is,  that  there  are  different  kinds  of 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

4 

knowing,  each  independent  of  the  others,  each  incapable 
of  affording  any  liglit  within  the  field  of  the  others.  Tlie 
various  forms  of  knowing  show  the  various  powers  of  the 
mind.  The  independence  and  diversity  of  the  matter 
given  reveal  the  independence  and  ultimate  character  of 
the  faculty  through  which  it  is  reached.  If  one  knowing 
faculty  could  overlook  another,  the  second  would  by  that 
very  fact  be  lost  or  merged  in  the  first ;  since  for  the  two 
there  would  be  but  one  line  of  perception.  Wq  have  two 
eyes,  but  only  one  power  of  sense  or  sight,  and  this  sense 
can  do  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  to  cover  the  phe- 
nomena of  taste  or  of  smell.  The  additional  and  inde- 
pendent action  of  each  intuitive  faculty  is  involved  in  the 
very  fact  of  its  being  a  faculty,  a  distinct  power  of  doing 
a  distinct  work. 

The  reverse  statement  is  evidently  equally  true,  and 
gives  us  a  third  postulate,  that  we  have  as  many  faculties 
^  as  we  have  distinct  forms  of  impressions  or  primitive  knowl- 
edge. The  presence  of  a  feeling,  a  perception,  a  conclusion, 
an  idea  in  consciousness,  must  be  explained ;  and  if  it  can 
not  by  analysis  be  resolved  into  simpler  forms,  or  by  deduc- 
tion be  derived  from  a  more  primitive  action,  it  must  be 
accejDted  as  itself  primary,  and  the  power  to  attain  it  be 
recognized.  The  question  of  elements  is  not  different  here 
from  the  kindred  question  in  the  physical  world.  Each 
form  of  matter  ranks  as  an  element,  till  chemical  analysis 
has  resolved  it.  The  classified  fruits  of  knowing  imply  as 
many  2:>owers  of  knowing,  till  the  classification  can  be  cor- 
rected by  a  reduction  of  the  number  of  genera. 

A  fourtli  postulate  is,  that  we  have  intuitive  as  well  as 
reflective  powers.  Ileflection  by  its  deductive  processes 
exhausts  primitive  material  of  its  instructional  value,  and 
by  its  inductive  processes  combines  it  in  forms  most  suita- 
ble for  general  knowledge.     But  these  methods  of  action 


POSTULATES.  15 

imply  material  already  present.  TVe  cannot  derive  all 
things  from  something  more  ultimate  ;  nor  combine  things, 
till  we  have  the  things  to  combine,  and  the  idea  of  the 
order  Ave  put  upon  them.  Reflection  camiot  furnish  its 
first  premises.  The  mind  must  have  starting  points,  and 
these  must  be  arrived  at  directly,  intuitively.  It  is  irra- 
tional not  to  recognize  the  beginning,  or  to  strive  to  get 
back  of  it  with  an  explanation.  "What  these  points  of  com- 
mencement are  it  is  the  office  of  philosophy  to  decide,  and 
to  arrest  explanation  and  all  effort  toward  it,  when  these 
have  been  reached. 

As  powers  are  ultimate  in  their  own  field,  the  test  of 
the  correctness  of  their  action  in  each  case  is  its  clearness, 
firmness,  universality.  This  is  our  fifth  postulate.  That 
which  is  done  uniformly  by  the  mind,  expresses  the  mind's 
normal  power,  and  this  normal  power  is  to  the  mind  suffi- 
cient proof.  Though  it  may  confirm  its  action  at  times  in 
secondary  ways,  these  ways  will  all  of  them  involve  the 
soundness  of  its  permanent  convictions.  AYe  may  strengthen 
our  reasonings  by  watching  the  concurrent  progress  of 
events,  but  we  shall  never  allow  those  events  to  contradict 
a  plain,  logical  process.  We  escape  this  result  by  the 
fresh  inference  that  the  premises  in  the  mind  and  those 
embraced  in  the  physical  facts  are  not  identical.  Clear- 
ness in  the  mind's  action  is  the  first  element  of  certainty. 
This  clearness  may  be  so  comprehensive  and  complete  as  to 
enable  a  single  mind  to  oppose  its  convictions  to  the  gen- 
eral convictions  of  men.  Pre-eminent  mental  power  does 
not  allow  itself  to  be  matched  with  majorities.  Even  in- 
sanity cannot  escape  this  law,  and  the  conclusions  of  the 
insane  may  even  be  more  imperturbable  than  those  of  the 
sane.  This  fact  does  not  destroy  the  value  of  the  law. 
Health  remains  a  power,  though  we  cannot  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  disease.     This  first  clearness  confirms  itself  by  re- 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

iteration.  What  the  mind  firmly  holds,  under  shifting  cir- 
cumstances, is  well  held.  And  this  again  is  further  tested 
by  universality.  Universality  is  in  some  sense  the  proper 
test  of  a  normal  power  of  mind,  but  it  is  one  that  must  be 
applied  with  great  discrimination.  Scarcely  any  truth  in 
science  or  philosophy  could  endure  its  heedless  use.  There 
is  no  averao:e  mind  Avhich  is  a  law  to  mind  in  all  its  mani- 
festations.  It  is  only  the  decision  of  minds  of  like  power, 
scope,  and  advantage  that  confirm  each  other.  The  widest 
experience  is  called  for  in  the  wise  application  of  this  test ; 
while  the  mind  bears  with  it,  all  through  the  formation  of 
this  experience,  an  unwavering  confidence  in  its  own  clear 
convictions.  This  test,  moreover,  will  vary  wdth  the  power 
under  discussion.  The  senses  more  readily  contradict  or 
correct  the  senses,  than  the  thoughts  the  thoughts,  or  the 
intuitions  the  intuitions  in  their  higher  range. 

A  last  postulate  is,  that  what  is  conceded — avowedly, 
tacitly,  or  impliedly — at  one  point,  must  be  freely  conceded 
at  all  points.  Processes  which  themselves  assume  the  good- 
ness of  our  faculties  must  not  conclude  with  a  denial  or  im- 
peachment of  their  integrity.  A  doubt  must  have  a  prem- 
ise, and  if  this  premise  involves  confidence  in  the  very 
reasoning  by  which  the  foundations  of  reasoning  are  dis- 
turbed, that  doubt  is  self-destructive.  An  idea,  whose  valid 
possession  is  denied,  must  not  be  allowed  to  enter  furtively 
into  those  very  processes  of  thought  by  wdiich  it  is  profess- 
edly eliminated.  If  it  cannot  be  removed  in  the  mind's 
ordinary  action,  it  must  not  be  removed  in  an  exhaustive 
scientific  statement  of  that  action. 

If  these  postulates  are  truly  adhered  to,  we  shall  cut 
ourselves  off  from  a  great  deal  of  impossible  and  absurd 
effort  to  assimilate  one  form  of  knowing  to  another;  from  a 
feeling  of  dissatisfaction  because  our  analytic  inquiries  are 
brought  at  length  to  a  halt ;  from  denying  any  knowledge 


POSTULATES.  17 

because  it  does  not  assume  a  familiar  and  specitied  form  of 
knowing;  and  from  deceptively  using  ideas  in  the  very 
attack  wliicli  we  make  upon  tliem,  knitting  together  our 
reasonings  with  axioms  stolen  from  an  adverse  system. 

By  these  postulates  we  secure  several  advantages.  We 
safely  start  our  knowledge  ;  w^e  start  it  theoretically  as  we 
do  practically  in  our  intuitions.  We  prevent  the  trespass 
of  one  form  of  knowledge  upon  another,  or  the  concession 
of  an  undue  pre-eminence  to  any  one  process  of  mind.  We 
fortify  the  foundations  of  knowledge  against  irrational  at- 
tack. The  intuitive  powers  which  at  any  stage  are  yield- 
ed by  analysis  are  freely  accepted  by  us,  and  if  there  is 
a  disposition  to  distrust  any  one  of  them,  we  are  carried 
back  immediately  to  the  process  by  which  its  claims  are  to 
be  tested.  If  we  believe  any  knowledge  not  to  be  simple 
and  primary,  we  have  only  to  show  it  to  be  compound  and 
derived.  So  long,  however,  as  we  accept  it  as  a  distinct, 
unanalyzed  conviction,  we  must  assign  it  a  mental  power, 
and  concede  its  entire  validity.  These  postulates  keep  our 
philosophy  at  work  on  the  familiar  mental  facts  offered  us 
for  explanation,  and  check  it  in  any  erratic  speculation 
which  is  proceeding  in  oversight  or  subversion  of  the  phe- 
nomena under  consideration,  the  hourly  thoughts  of  men, 
the  knowledge  current  in  the  human  mind. 


BOOK  I. 


THE    INTELLECT. 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  Field  of  Mental  Science  and  its  Divisions. 

§  1.  There  is  no  brancli  of  knowledge  more  distinctly 
defined  in  its  limits  than  mental  science.  It  lies  in  a  nnique 
realm,  cut  off  from  every  other — that  of  consciousness.  All 
the  phenomena  of  this  field  in  their  separation,  classification, 
mutual  interaction  and  dependencies  are  the  subjects  of  this 
science,  and  its  only  subjects.  There  is  thus  little  oppor- 
tunity to  confound  the  inquiries  belonging  to  philosophy 
with  those  of  any  other  department.  Logic  and  Ethics 
most  nearly  approach  it ;  but  the  one  considers  abstractly 
the  products  and  processes  of  thought,  and  not  the  think- 
ing powers  ;  and  the  other,  the  moral  constitution  of  the 
mind,  and  is  so  far  a  branch  of  23hilosophy,  adding  thereto, 
however,  an  evolution  of  practical  precepts  from  moral 
23rinciples. 

Anatomy  and  physiology,  on  the  side  of  the  natural 
sciences,  are  most  closely  allied  to  philosophy,  yet,  after  all, 
deal  only  with  the  physical  conditions  and  instruments  of 
mental  action,  and,  without  the  key  and  interpretation  of 


20  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

mental  science  itself,  can  cast  no  light  whatever  upon  it. 
The  facts  of  philosophy  lie  in  consciousness ;  here  they  are 
to  be  sought,  and  every  fact  therein  contained  is  to  be  made 
the  subject  of  consideration. 

Consciousness  is  commensurate  with  all  mental  states 
and  acts.  It  accompanies  feeling  as  much  as  thinking,  and 
volition  as  much  as  either.  The  only  possible  way  in 
which  a  mental  state  or  act  can  be  testified  to,  is  by  con- 
sciousness; some  mind  at  some  time  has  known  or  felt 
it.  An  event  that  happens  nowhere  in  space  is  not  a 
physical: event ;  an  act  or  state  that  is  not  found  in  the  field 
of  consciousness  is  not  a  mental  act  or  state.  There  are 
either  facts  that  are  neither  physical  nor  mental,  that  exist 
neither  in  space  nor  consciousness,  but  in  some  unintel- 
ligible form  in  some  third  region,  or  all  facts  fall  under 
these  two  divisions  ;  and  it  remains  the  criterion  of  one 
class  that  they  occur  in  space,  and  of  the  other  that  they 
occur  in  consciousness.  A  third  state  is  inadmissible  as 
unknown  and  unnecessary.  Consciousness  is  neither  a 
knowing  nor  a  feeling  nor  a  willing,  is  neither  this  nor 
that  mental  act,  but  a  condition  common  to  them  all,  a  field 
in  which  they  appear,  in  which  they  arise  and  make  proof 
of  their  existence.  A  consciousness  of  knowing  is  neces- 
sary to  knowing,  a  consciousness  of  feeling  is  necessary  to 
feeling,  and  of  willing  to  volition ;  and  as  these  three  cover 
all  states  and  acts  of  mind,  consciousness  is  involved  in  the 
very  conception  of  a  mental  act  or  state.  It  is  an  insepara- 
ble something  which  defines  the  nature  of  the  phenomena 
to  which  it  pertains. 

Consciousness  gives — we  use  familiar  language,  a  more 
careful  expression  would  be,  in  consciousness  is  found — 
the  mere  fact  of  a  mental  state,  that  it  is,  and  what  it  is, 
whether  one  of  thought,  feeling,  or  volition ;  or  a  complex 
one  involving  two  or  more  of  these.    It  renders  phenomena 


TRUTHFULNESS  OF  CONSCIOUSNESS.  21 

as  tliej  exist,  not  analytically  but  synthetically,  as  the  eye 
colors,  or  the  ear  sounds.  To  reach  the  primary  colors 
which  constitute  the  tint,  the  separate  notes  which  form 
the  harmouA^  calls  for  attention  and  discrimination.  The 
mere  facts  of  mind  as  facts  are  rendered  in  consciousness, 
and  to  be  found  there  and  only  there  by  all  who  meet  the 
conditions  of  search. 

Discussion  is  had  as  to  the  ti-uthfulness  of  consciousness. 
There  is  no  ground  for  such  discussion,  since  the  discussion 
itself  involves  the  thing  doubted.     Nothing  can  be  better 
known  than  a  fact  of  consciousness,  since  nothing  can  be 
known  save  through  such  a  fact.     Consciousness  pervades 
all  knowing,  all  thinking,  distrust  equally  with  trust,  denial 
with  affirmation.     Xo  man  ever  does  doubt,  nor   can  he 
philosophically  doubt,  the  existence  of  a  present  fact  of 
mind.     To  do  so  would  rob  language  of  all  meaning.     The 
only  way  in  which  such  a  dispute  becomes  possible  is  by 
wrongly  regarding  consciousness  as  a  faculty,  giving  direct 
testimony  to  certain  things,  instead  of  something  involved 
in  the  very  fact  of  feeling  and  knowing,  making  them  what 
they  are,  and,  therefore,  never  present  except  through  veri- 
table, and,  for  the  instant  at  least,  undeniable,  feeling  and 
knowing.      Whether   the   thing   known   has   an   indepen- 
dent existence,  or  the  thing  thought  is  correct,  are  quite 
other  questions.     A  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  testimony 
of  one  or  more  of  our  faculties  to  the  various  things  de- 
clared by  them  is  a  scepticism  by  one  step  less  central  and 
iless   absurd   than  the  distrust  of   consciousness.      In  this 
there  is  no   show  of  rationality.      There  are  involved  in 
the  one  act  an  affirmation  and  denial  of  the  same  thing. 

There  can  be  no  rational  objection  taken  to  aii  inquiry 
into  the  facts  of  consciousness,  and  no  uncertainty  can 
attach  to  them  as  facts  which  does  not  attach  in  a  yet 
higher    degree    to   all   other   facts.      The   phenomena   of 


22  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

ps^^cliology  are  of  the  most  primary  character  and  certain 
order,  even  as  compared  with  those  of  science.  There  is 
no  knowledire  so  direct  as  that  which  the  mind  has  of  its 
own  states ;  all  other  knowledge  is  indirect  being  condi- 
tioned on  this  knowledge.  The  plienomena  of  mind  are 
given  truthfully  and  synthetically.  Its  facts  are  evanes- 
cent in  each  mind,  but  they  are,  for  the  moment  at  least, 
certain.  In  their  several  forms  and  their  diverse  lines  of 
succession,  they  are  exceedingly  complex  and  changeable. 
Their  obscurely  synthetical  character  is  their  most  strik- 
ing characteristic. 

§  2.  The  facts  of  mind  are  confined,  then,  to  the  field 
of  consciousness,  and  there  they  are  to  be  sought.  In  this 
search  there  are  peculiar  difficulties.  It  is  with  most  an 
unusual  effort  of  mind  to  direct  attention  to  interior  phe- 
nomena. External  objects  have  been  the  chief  subjects  of 
consideration,  and  to  turn  the  sight  of  the  mind  on  itself 
is  an  unfamiliar  and  delicate  process.  It  is  like  an  effort 
to  reveal  to  the  eye  itself  its  own  chambers,  by  casting 
in  light  and  by  adroit  reflection. 

Neither  are  the  several  phases  of  mind  observed  as 
transpiring,  but  as  remembered.  In  the  very  act  of  think- 
ing, the  mind  is  so  occupied  with  the  subject  matter  of 
thought  as  not  to  make  the  process  itself  the  object  of  at- 
tention. JSTow  memory  is  at  best  but  a  dim  and  obscure 
vision,  and  especially  so  of  internal  states,  which  less  draw 
the  mind's  eye  than  the  objects  and  facts  wdiicli  are  the 
occasion  of  them.  If  natural  science  were  to  proceed  by  the 
memory  of  things,  seen  at  periods  more  or  less  remote,  its 
progress  would  be  comparatively  uncertain.  Nor  can  the 
phenomena  of  mind  be  restored  perfectly  at  pleasure,  and 
thus  the  recollection  of  them  freshened.  This  is  more  pos- 
sible in  thinking  than  in  feeling  and  volition ;  yet  even  in 
thought,  for  its  natural  and  full  flow  in  a  given  direction, 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  INQUIRY.  i^3 

the  mind  must  be  disengaged  from  conflicting  states  and 
considerations,  and  be  left  to  the  unobserved  and  sponta- 
neous action  of  the  connections  and  impulses  peculiar  to  the 
mental  movement. 

This  inability  to  hold  directly  the  state  considered  be- 
fore the  mind,  as  the  plant  or  mineral  is  watched  and  re- 
tained by  the  eye,  is  connected  with  another  difficulty ;  no 
one  can  join  us  in  our  investigation  with  the  directness  and 
certainty  which  pertain  to  other  inquiries.  The  object  be- 
fore the  mind  of  each  observer  is  hidden  from  the  other, 
may  not  be  of  exactly  the  same  character  as  that  with  which 
he  is  occu]3ied,  nor  looked  at  in  the  same  direction.  This 
confusion  of  objects  and  observations  is  most  perplexing. 
It  is  as  if  the  eye  were  turned  a  little  askance,  and  the 
movement  and  the  blow,  therefore,  directed  at  an  image 
before  it,  and  not  at  the  very  thing  itself.  Much  skill  and 
time  are  thus  consumed  between  different  observers  in 
drawing  attention  to  exactly  the  same  facts.  They  often, 
through  the  deceptive  effect  of  agreeing  words,  seem  to 
have  reached  this  result,  when  they  have  not  attained  it, 
and  thus  fall  into  inextricable  confusion  and  contradiction. 
The  feebleness  of  direction  and  construction  is  akin  to  that 
experienced,  when,  by  the  sense  of  touch  alone,  groping  in 
the  darkness,  we  strive  to  understand  the  parts,  proportions 
and  relations  of  even  a  familiar  room. 

It  is  also  incident  to  this  search  of  consciousness,  that 
no  one  observes  more  than  the  phenomena  of  his  own  mind, 
and  those,  too,  of  a  comparatively  recent  period.  It  is  difli- 
cult,  therefore,  to  determine  how  far  a  peculiar  balance  of 
faculties,  as  individual  habits  and  associations,  may  have 
modified  the  mind's  action,  giving  prominence  to  certain 
forms  and  connections  of  thought,  and  obscuring  others. 
This  fact  also  embarrasses  us  in  deciding  how  far  the 
mind's  later  convictions  are  due  to  protracted  association, 


24  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

and  how  far  to  native,  inlierent  tendencies  or  powers.  Is 
the  normal,  adult  mind  in  forms  of  action  the  fruit  of 
growth,  or  are  these  forms  native  and  indispensable  to  it  ? 
The  consciousness  of  the  child  or  of  the  savage,  so  far  as 
these  questions  may  there  seem  to  find  an  experimental 
answer,  is  beyond  our  direct  exploration. 

Another  embarrassment  in  philosophy,  though  not  pe- 
culiar to  it,  is  the  blended  way  in  which  its  facts  are  pre- 
sented. Not  only  do  thought,  feeling,  volition  unite  in  one 
state,  diverse  and  conflicting  feelings  struggle  for  the  mas- 
tery, and,  in  the  simplest  judgments,  are  interwoven  per- 
ception, memory,  reasoning,  imagination,  intuition,  and  the 
subtile  effects  of  association,  rendering  analysis  a  difficult, 
yet  an  indispensable  condition  of  success.  Analysis  of  this 
obscure  character,  with  phenomena  in  themselves  evanes- 
cent and  fluctuating,  requires  the  utmost  skill  and  tension 
of  mind. 

Another  obstacle  to  success  to  be  mentioned  are  the 
peculiar  deficiencies  of  language  in  this  dej^artment.  Lan- 
guage, always  an  essential,  is  here  a  chief,  instrument  of 
investigation.  It  is  the  precision  of  the  word  employed, 
that  separates  and  holds  fast  the  faculty,  element,  or  rela- 
tion designated.  In  natural  science,  objects  exist  apart, 
though  not  named,  and  hence  do  not  lose  their  identity,  are 
not  so  merged  in  the  ebb  and  flow  of  shifting  j^henomena 
as  to  escape  all  observation.  The  very  sense  of  existence  is 
largely  due  in  mental  facts  to  a  clear,  specific,  generally 
recognized  name ;  since  we  handle  the  states  of  philosophy 
exclusively  through  their  names,  and  without  these,  readily 
lose  all  traces  of  them.  Moreover  these  names  are  ap2:)lied 
somewhat  in  the  dark.  It  is  by  description  and  suggestion 
that  we  are  taught  what  the  internal  states  are  to  which 
given  words  are  set  apart.  The  word  is  the  same,  but  the 
internal  fact  which  explains  it  is,  in  every  single  case,  dif- 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  INQUIRY.  25 

ferent,  that  is,  lies  in  a  different  mind,  and  must  be  liit  on 
as  the  thing  meant,  by  the  sagacity  of  that  mind.  AYe  are 
as  one  who  puts  together  a  complicated  machine  by  a 
printed  description  and  directions  before  him.  Careful 
observation  is  required  to  determine  the  parts  referred  to, 
and  failing  of  this,  all  is  confusion.  Yet  in  this  illustration 
the  parts  are  fixed,  separate,  with  a  permanent,  independent 
existence  ;  wdiile  the  parts  of  a  complex,  mental  state  ad- 
mit of  various  divisions,  or  may  disappear  altogether,  like 
some  rivet  in  the  dust  of  the  shop.  To  attach  words,  there- 
fore, to  their  objects  ;  to  imite  the  two  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  escape  for  either,  is  a  delicate  and  uncertain  process. 
The  ambiguity  of  words  embarrasses  all  forms  of  statement 
and  reasonino^,  but  is  never  elsewhere  the  source  of  so  much 
idle  discussion  and  fruitless  inquiry  as  in  philosophy. 

A  further  obstacle  presented  by  language  is,  that  it 
comes  to  mental  phenomena  saturated  with  the  imagery  ol 
the  external  world.  Words  are  born  amid  sensible  facts, 
and  thence  transferred  to  the  mind.  They  come,  therefore, 
to  this  new  service  with  the  images  and  associations  ac- 
quired in  the  old.  They  subserve  a  popular,  familiar  use 
only  the  more  aptly  for  this  reason.  It  is  when  they  are 
made  the  subject  of  careful  analysis,  when  they  are  treated 
as  the  exact  expression  of  the  thing  named,  that  their  physi- 
cal root  and  relations  reveal  themselves  disastrously.  The 
mind  reaching  this  interior  analogical  thread  of  interpre- 
tation is  pleased  by  it,  xand  overlooks  the  fact,  that  investi- 
gation is  thus  sure  to  be  led  astray ;  to  be  turned  entirely 
from  true  mental  phenomena,  and  to  be  sent  wandering 
among  their  shadows  and  reflections  in  the  external  world. 
Thus,  from  the  very  beginning,  every  discussion  concerning 
liberty  has  been  embarrassed,  and  in  most  instances  has 
miscarried,  through  the  application  to  motives  and  desires, 
in  a  figurative  sense,  of  words  begotten  amid  the  necessary 


y 


26  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

connections  of  physical  things.  These  half-reclaimed  ser- 
vants, when  closely  questioned,  have  betrayed  their  low 
relations,  and  in  so  doing  have  lost  to  liberty  its  high,  ether- 
eal form.  Like  its  household,  it  has  been  thought  to  be 
mud-born. 

The  facts  before  us  for  discussion  must  one  and  all  re- 
appear in  language  as  a  condition  of  their  consideration  ;  and 
this  dithculty  subdivides  itself  into  four  obscure  and  shift- 
ing forms.  (1)  There  may  be  no  word  in  the  language  to 
express  a  mental  fact  or  relation.  Thus  we  are  now  bor- 
rowing noumena  to  oppose  to  phenomena.  (2)  The  exact 
attachment  of  a  word  may  be  uncertain,  and  different  for 
different  persons.  Thus  consciousness  is  still  very  vague  in 
its  aj)plication.  (3)  Words  of  fundamental  importance  may 
have  several  meanings,  and  play  in  a  most  perplexing  man- 
ner between  them.  Thus  right  may  designate  that  which 
is  intellectually  or  socially  or  morally  right.  (4)  The  images 
of  the  physical  world  so  pervert  our  psychological  words 
as  oftentimes  to  constitute  a  false  connection  between  the 
things  covered  by  them.  Thus  the  doctrine  of  association 
has  been  built  up  on  the  idea  of  a  certain  coherence,  affinity, 
or  what  not,  between  thoughts  and  feelings  aside  from  the 
powers  of  mind  expressed  in  them. 

The  last  difficulty  is  allied  to  this,  and  arises  from  the 
uniqueness  of  the  department.  It  refuses  to  receive  illus- 
trations from  the  analogies  of  matter ;  or  rather  it  refuses  to 
accept  as  the  exact  types  and  counterparts  of  its  own  facts 
and  dependencies  those  of  a  realm  at  the  farthest  possible 
remove  from  it,  at  the  very  nadir  of  the  sphere  of  being. 
Yet  the  mind,  familiar  with  certain  processes,  certain  forms 
of  explanation,  certain  couplings  of  thought,  is  uneasy  and 
dissatisfied  with  all  others,  is  only  content  when  it  has  put 
the  new  matter  under  the  old  law,  the  new  wine  into  the 
old  bottles.     Unable  to  hold  it  in  these  stiff,  inflexible  case- 


AIDS  IN  INQUIRY.      ^        ^  /  S7  , 

ments,  such  a  notion  as  that  of  the  infinite  p9i;|)lexeS'*a/id  / 

vexes  the  mind,  simply  becanse  it  is  not  the  nnke,^  and  /  - 
thus  stands  oj^posed  to  other  forms  of  knowledge,  and'W  ex-  ^^  . 
eluded  from  them.  Equally  is  it  annoyed  with  liberty  lerr  / 
not  yielding  to  some  analogy  of  necessity,  some  interpreta- 
tion drawn  from  the  physical  world;  for  not  taking  upon 
itself,  in  a  more  subtile  way,  the  iron-bound  connections  of 
matter ;  and  with  right,  because  it  will  insist  on  being  final, 
and  refuses  to  be  merged  in  any  other  form  of  good  what- 
ever. To  accept  a  new  department — so  new  and  so  novel 
as  this  of  mind  when  contrasted  with  that  of  matter — as 
new,  to  lay  aside  prepossessions,  and  to  commence  again 
with  sim|)le  intuitive  convictions,  the  axioms  of  this  field, 
involve  a  sore  conflict,  and  the  more  a  conflict  in  propor- 
tion as  the  inquirer  has  gained  great  victories  of  know- 
ledge in  the  material  world,  and  dwelt  long  amid  its 
methods  of  action.  This  is  probably  the  gravest  of  all  the 
obstacles  to  philosophy,  and  the  more  so  because  it  is  gen- 
erally entirely  overlooked  or  forgotten. 

§  3.  While  the  j)henomena  of  mind  are  to  be  obtained 
directly  and  only  directly  from  the  mind  itself,  there  are 
very  important  indirect  auxiliaries  of  inquiry.  Language 
is  one  of  the  prominent  of  these  aids.  Language,  as  the 
product  of  the  mind,  as  the  external,  visible  trace  of  the 
mind's  movements,  reveals  of  course  the  forms  of  its  action, 
and,  in  the  designations  of  mental  phenomena,  a  part  at  least 
of  the  facts  of  the  interior  w^orld.  On  disputed  questions 
of  analysis,  also,  the  spontaneous,  general  convictions  of 
men  are  betrayed  by  the  words  they  use ;  and  a  distinct 
designation  is  so  far  proof  of  the  general  recognition  of  a  • 
distinct  idea.  That  certain  words  are  always  and  every- 
where floating  in  popular  speech  indicates  that  the  thoughts 
of  men  find  rest  in  them,  something  valid,  sufficient  to> 
steady  and  sustain  the  mind  as  for  the  moment  it  lights- 


28  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

upon  tliem.  These  traces  of  the  mind,  indicating  its  own 
spontaneous  convictions,  that  which  is  actually  woven  into 
the  web  of  its  thinkins^  and  feelinof,  must  be  included  in 
eveiy  sound  theory  of  philosophy,  and  furnish  the  suggest- 
ions for  its  construction. 

Of  the  same  nature  exactly,  though  not  as  easily  accessi- 
ble or  explicit,  are  the  facts  of  daily  life  and  of  history. 
The  shadow  of  the  mind  is  cast  upon  them,  and  we  may 
reason  thence  to  the  powers  and  capacities  they  indicate. 
A  theory  which  utterly  confounds,  as  do  some  metaphysical 
theories,  all  the  convictions  of  daily  life,  and  makes  the 
facts  of  history  and  those  of  j)hiloso2:)hy  rest  on  utterly  di- 
verse conceptions,  so  much  so  that  no  region  seems  so  re- 
mote or  even  preposterous  as  this  metaphysical  dream-land 
to  the  very  beings  w^ho  are  said  to  inhabit  it,  by  that  fact 
reflects  on  itself  extreme  improbability.  History  must  be 
felt  to  be,  and  found  to  be,  the  very  shadow,  the  intimate 
reflection,  of  that  inner  life  which  is  revealed  to  us  by  men- 
tal science. 

Another  aid  to  philosophical  investigation  is  found  in 
an  inquiry  into  the  instruments  of  the  mind,  the  physical 
organs  which  it  uses ;  and  into  the  incipient  and  rudiment- 
ary development  of  intellectual  action  shown  by  animals. 
"We  are  thus  able  to  give  more  correct  weight  to  the  purely 
physical  element,  and  to  separate  more  intelligently  tlie 
lower  and  instinctive  forms  of  animal  life  from  true,  men- 
tal powers.  While  not  underestimating  the  secondary  and 
inferential  aid  thus  to  be  I'endered  to  philosoj^hy,  we  think 
that  extravagant  and  absurd  expectations  of  the  results  of 
investigations  primarily  physical  have  been  entertained. 
One  might  look  at  a  brain  with  utmost  inquiry,  and,  with- 
out the  interpretation  of  the  facts  of  consciousness  obtained 
by  introspection,  his  observations,  as  initiating  a  science  of 
mind,  would  not  be  of  the  least  avail.     To  suppose  that  the 


PH78ICAL  AIDS.  29 

divisions  of  mental  faculties  can  be  found  eitlier  on  the 
outside  or  inside  of  a  skull  is  preposterous.  Passing  the 
exjDeriniental  proof  so  fully  given  by  Hamilton,  that  no 
such  connection  as  that  sometimes  claimed  between  certain 
powers  and  certain  localities  of  the  brain  can  be  shown  to 
exist,  we  insist,  that  even  if  the  fact  of  sucli  a  connec- 
tion were  proved,  we  should  still  as  much  as  ever  need 
an  independent  philosophy  derived  from  consciousness. 
These  regions  are  not  labelled  in  the  human  subject.  They 
contain  in  themselves  no  suggestion  of  the  purpose  sub- 
served by  the  portion  of  the  brain  beneath  them.  The  ob- 
server must  have  an  antecedent  idea  of  certain  mental 
powers,  and  be  ready  to  attribute  one  or  other  of  these  to 
the  prominence  under  his  fingers.  Afterward  he  may  con- 
firm the  act  by  observation.  This  first  condition,  however, 
failing  him,  the  bump  under  discussion  might  as  well  be  a 
protuberance  on  a  potato  as  a  23rojection  on  a  human  skull. 
The  one,  in  and  of  itself,  as  a  mere  prominence  on  a  round 
body,  makes  no  more  declaration  of  ideality,  benevolence, 
language,  than  the  other.  Suppose  we  have  made  from 
consciousness  a  wrong  division  of  powers,  what  is  there  to 
liinder  us  from  transferring  these  errors  to  our  map  of  the 
cranium  ?  Nothing ;  they  will  rather  inevitably  thus  re- 
appear. The  chart  that  is  to  guide  us  must  be  made  out 
before  we  can  begin  to  outline  and  number  and  name  the 
divisions  of  our  plaster  bust,  and  equally  also  before  we  can 
attribute  a  faculty  to  a  locality  in  the  living  subject.  The 
absurd  classification  of  phrenologists ;  such  faculties  as  com- 
bativeness,  philoprogenitiveness,  secretiveness,  are  sufficient 
proof,  if  further  proof  were  wanting,  of  this  inability  to 
find  the  invisible  action  of  the  mind  in  the  visible  form  of 
its  instrument.  All  the  aid  given  to  philosophy  by  an 
external  fact  is  inferential,  not  direct ;  and  that  invisible 
faculty  or  force  which  is  thus  to  be  reached,  on  which  our 


30  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

conclusion  is  to  land,  must  be  given,  in  the  only  possible 
knowledge  of  its  nature,  bj  consciousness.  The  analysis  of 
mental  phenomena  shows  that  firmness  is  the  complex  re- 
sult of  various,  and  of  different,  mental  states,  and  no  loca- 
ting of  a  supposed  faculty  so  called  in  one  or  another  por- 
tion of  the  head  can  alter,  or  throw  light  on,  these  facts. 
The  singleness  of  the  name  and  locality  imparts  no  new 
singleness  to  the  mind's  action,  marks  no  division  of  its 
faculties.  The  invisible  cannot  be  seen  through  the  visible. 
Each  must  be  determined  independently,  and  the  connec- 
tions between  the  two  established  by  experience.  It  would 
be  as  rational  to  suppose  that  the  letters  contained  in  the 
word  will  should  of  themselves  convey  to  every  mind  the 
notion  of  that  power,  as  to  suppose  that  a  prominent  eye 
should  reveal  the  existence  of  a  faculty  called  language. 
Regarding  consciousness,  then,  as  the  only  field  of  the 
science,  whether  reached  inferentially,  or  directly  under 
the  interpretation  of  the  light  it  itself  furnishes,  we  pass  to 
the  general  divisions  of  mental  phenomena. 

§  4.  The  leading  divisions  of  the  faculties  of  the 
mind,  so  generally  accepted  since  the  time  of  Kant  as 
scarcely  to  demand  further  explanation  or  defence,  are  those 
of  knowing,  feeling,  willing ;  the  intellect,  tlie  sensibility, 
and  the  will.  The  desires  are  by  Kant  and  Hamilton  in- 
cluded with  the  will.  They  belong  rather  with  the  feel- 
ings. Desire  is  employed  to  designate  a  state  of  feeling 
toward  a  certain  object  or  objects.  We  find  things  differ- 
ently related  to  our  happiness ;  we  cease,  therefore,  to  be  in- 
different to  them ;  one  object  or  line  of  action  gets  a  hold 
upon  us  ;  we  are  drawn  toward  it,  and  this  emotional  state 
we  call  a  desire.  Language  sustains  this  decision.  Desires 
are  constantly  spoken  of  as  feelings,  never  as  thoughts  or 
volitions  ;  the  words  in  the  first  case  are  used  intercliange- 
ably,  not  so  in  the  second.     We  apply  the  same  adjectives 


DIVISION  OF  POWERS.  31 

to  tliem  as  to  the  feelings.  We  say  of  a  desire  as  of  an 
emotion,  that  it  is  strong  or  weak,  iirm  or  changeable,  in- 
tense or  feeble ;  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  avarice, 
speak  of  it  as  becoming  a  passion.  Onr  desires,  also,  may 
be  directly  opposed  to  our  volitions.  We  greatly  covet  a 
certain  possession,  but  our  pride  constrains  us  not  to  ask  for 
it.  We  wish  the  pleasure  of  a  given  action,  but  through 
fear  determine  not  to  perform  it.  A  state  of  desire,  like 
every  state  of  feeling,  is  antecedent  to  volition,  and  may  or 
may  not  find  play  in  subsequent  choices.  As  a  desire  it 
may  arise  and  pass  away  emotionally,  like  envy  or  jealousy 
or  sympathy  or  love,  and  find  no  expression  in  action, 
awaken  not  the  will  at  all.  It  may  either  meet  with  ac- 
ceptance by  the  mind,  or  suffer  rejection  by  it.  Desire, 
then,  should  be  included  in  the  field  of  the  emotions,  where 
it  arises,  and  spends  its  power.  It  does  not,  in  the  fact  that 
it  gives  occasion  to  the  will  for  activity  in  providing  for  its 
gratification,  differ  from  other  feelings.  These  also,  as  long 
as  they  last,  are  springs  of  volition. 

§  5.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to  divide  the  depart- 
ment of  will,  into  choice  and  volition.  A  color  of  plausi- 
bility is  given  to  this  division  by  distinguishing  between 
initiatory  volition  and  executive  volition.  The  first  is 
termed  choice,  the  second  volition.  AVhen  two  diverse  lines 
of  action  are  contemplated,  and  the  mind  is  as  yet  unde- 
cided between  them,  the  desires  have  free  play,  the  sense  of 
moral  obligation  is  present,"and  the  conflict  awaits  a  definite 
settlement  by  a  choice,  a  fixed  determination,  in  favor  of 
one  or  the  other.  We  sometimes,  at  this  point,  use  the 
word  choice  out  of  the  meaning  which  should  attach  to  it 
as  pertaining  to  volition.  Thus  we  say,  "  My  choice  would 
be  this  line  of  effort,"  though  we  actually  accept  and  pur- 
sue another.  Choice  is  thus  made  to  express  a  state  of  de- 
sire, not  one  of  will.     The  word  choice,  however,  in  its  use 


32  THE  FIFLD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

ill  the  tliird  department  of  mental  23lienomena,  expresses  an 
explicit  termination  of  all  vacillation,  a  close  deliberation 
bj  an  act  of  will  in  favor  of  this  and  in  rejection  of  that. 

The  case  thus  being  closed  by  a  specific  and  peculiar 
act,  there  remains  a  lousier  or  shorter  series  of  efforts  to  be 
made  in  reaching  the  object  proposed,  in  accomplishing  the 
career  marked  out.  There  are  no  definite  limits  in  analysis 
to  these  intermediate  acts.  Our  division  may  extend  to 
each  muscular  movement,  or  it  may  stop  short  with  each 
specific  undertaking.  I  propose  to  build  a  house;  the 
number  of  distinct  physical  and  intellectual  efforts  involved 
in  the  project  are  indefinitely  great ;  and  while  they  are  all 
under  the  control  of  the  will,  we  have  no  occasion  to  place 
a  distinct  volition  back  of  each  one  of  them.  The  will  has 
the  power,  by  a  few  explicit  volitions,  to  direct  the  current 
of  the  vital  powers  in  a  single  channel  of  expenditure.  A 
walk  once  entered  on,  the  movement  becomes  in  a  large 
measure  unconscious,  and  the  mind  is  left  at  liberty  to  pur- 
sue any  line  of  action  it  2^1'efers.  The  voluntary  and  the 
involuntary  play  of  physical  members  differ  not  so  much  in 
the  manner  in  which  they  are  sustained,  as  in  the  way  in 
which  they  are  initiated,  and  in  the  fact  that  the  one  is 
momentarily  open  to  modification,  and  arrest. 

The  distinction  then  made  between  a  choice  and  a  voli- 
tion seems  to  be  found  in  their  position  in  reference  to  an 
end,  rather  than  in  their  intrinsic  character.  The  one  is 
initiatory  of  a  line  of  action ;  the  other  sustains  and  com- 
pletes it.  Ths  one  is  primary,  the  other  subsidiary.  The 
one  is  determinative  and  governing,  the  other  executive. 
The  first  gives  character  to  an  action,  the  second  sustains 
and  develops  that  character.  The  one  is  immediately  free, 
the  otlier  mediately  so,  through  its  dependence  on  tlie  first. 
The  division  thus  sinks  into  a  classification  of  volitions,  and 
removes  neither  choice  nor  volition  from  the  phenomena  of 


coj:iSCious:N'ES8.  33 

the  will.  Choice,  as  an  act  of  will,  does  not  include  the 
deliberation  and  the  plaj  of  feeling  from  which  it  proceeds ; 
but  only  that  final  act  by  which  they  are  brought  to  a  close, 
an^  the  powers  of  the  mind  made  to  unite  in  a  line  of 
effort.  Executive  volitions  are  the  secondary  im23ulses  of 
w^ill,  by  which  its  primary  impulses  are  completed  ;  they 
are  the  prolongations  of  that  power  w^hich  is  born  of  choice. 
The  ball  is  driven  in  a  given  line,  but  receives  accessions 
of  force,  and  changes  of  direction,  as  the  exigencies  require. 
§  6.  The  relation  of  consciousness  to  the  three  forms  of 
mental  action  is  the  same.  Sir  William  Hamilton  seems  to 
have  regarded  its  connection  with  knowing  as  somewhat 
peculiar.  While  he  speaks  of  it  as  the  condition  of  all 
mental  phenomena,  he  says,  "Those  of  the  first  class,  the 
phenomena  of  knowledge,  are  indeed  nothing  but  con- 
sciousness in  various  relations."  The  complete  and  expan- 
sive statement  is  rather  that  consciousness  is  the  condition, 
and  equally  the  condition,  of  all  mental  acts  and  states.  It 
is  merely  through  a  deficiency,  or  peculiar  use  of  language, 
that  it  seems  to  be  more  intimately  connected  with  know- 
ing than  with  feeling.  To  know  a  thing,  and  to  be  con- 
scious of  it,  are  used  as  interchangeable  expressions ;  and, 
hence,  we  have  come  to  regard  consciousness  as  a  kind  of 
knowing,  or  as  an  act  of  knowing,  and  not  merely  and 
purely  the  condition  of  such  an  act,  that  which  permits 
knowing  to  be  knowing.  It  is  not  strange,  that  a  constant 
condition  of  an  act  should,  in  language,  take  the  place  of 
the  act  itself.  Through  this  interplay  of  the  w^ords  con- 
scious and  know,  we  are  able  to  say,  "We  know  that  we 
feel,"  "We  know  that  we  will;"  though  we  can  with  only 
doubtful  propriety  say,  "We  feel  that  w^e  know,"  "We 
feel  that  we  will ; ''  and  cannot  at  all  say,  "  We  will  that  we  • 
know,"  "  We  will  that  we  feel,"  This  use  arises  through  a* 
peculiar  connection  in  the  language  employed  of  conscious- 


34  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

ness  with  knowing,  and  thus  a  transfer  of  the  word  know 
to  both  feeling  and  volition.  Consciousness  is  no  more  an 
act  of  knowing  than  it  is  one  of  feeling,  and  is  a  condition 
in  exactly  the  same  sense  and  way  for  the  one  as  for  the 
other.  We  know  in  consciousness,  we  feel  in  conscious- 
ness, we  will  in  consciousness  ;  and  consciousness  is  neither 
an  act  of  knowing,  nor  of  feeling,  nor  of  willing,  but  a  con- 
dition of  them  all.  Consciousness  is  not  a  something,  a 
faculty  or  a  light,  which  reveals  acts,  independently  of 
knowing,  feeling,  willing,  to  the  mind  ;  but  that  which 
makes  .an  act  of  knowing  to  be  one  of  knowing,  of  feeling 
to  be  one  of  feeling,  and  volition  to  stand  forth  as  volition. 
Mind,  by  virtue  of  its  own  nature  as  mind,  does  and  suffers 
what  it  does  and  suffers  consciously,  under  this  simple  and 
inexplicable  condition  of  being  aware  of  its  own  acts  ;  a  con- 
dition which  is  no  more  allied  to  one  act  than  to  another,  to 
one  state  than  to  another,  but  is  common  to  each  in  its  in- 
divisible nature.  A  feeling  is  not  a  feeling  and  a  knowing 
that  we  feel  ;  a  volition  a  willing  and  a  knowing  that  we 
will,  but  simply  and  singly  an  emotion  and  a  choice,  under 
the  essential  condition  of  such  acts,  to  wit,  consciousness. 

§  7.  Two  allied  inquiries  arise  in  this  division  of  men- 
tal phenomena.  Are  there  any  mental  phenomena  below 
or  outside  of  consciousness  ?  Are  the  states  of  mind,  the 
acts  of  consciousness,  consecutive  or  intermittent  ?  Sir  Wil- 
liam Hamilton,  and  many  other  metaphysicians,  recognize 
unconscious  modifications  of  mind,  we  think  without  suffi- 
cient proof.  The  conclusion  is  too  purely  conjectural  to 
command  our  consent.  Mental  and  physical  phenomena 
are  cut  broadly  and  deeply  apart  by  the  fact,  that  the  one 
class  appears  exclusively  in  consciousness,  and  the  other  as 
exclusively  out  of  consciousness.  The  last  are  actual  or 
possible  objects  of  some  organ  of  perception,  are  somewhere 
located  in  space,   and  thus  open  to  the  outside  action  of 


SUBCONSCJOVS  FACTS.  35 

mind  throngli  its  senses ;  the  first  are  within  tlie  mind, 
evincing  their  existence  exckisively  by  their  effects  in  con- 
sciousness. Not  to  exhibit  anywhere,  to  any  actual  or  sup- 
posable  organ  of  sense,  any  phenomena,  is,  in  the  physical 
world,  not  to  exist.  Existence  is  affirmed  only  on  the 
ground  of  some  effects,  however  subtile,  in  sensible  objects, 
and  directly  or  indirectly  in  organs  of  perception.  We 
never  hear  of  physical  facts  above  or  below  space,  beyond 
all  possible  tests  of  perception;  since  such  phenomena 
would  be  utterly  unable  to  manifest  this  existence,  to  give 
any  proof  to  it.  The  very  notion  of  physical  being  arises 
from  that  of  physical  effects,  under  suitable  circumstances 
open  to  observation.  Thus  also  should  mental  phenomena 
be  regarded.  There  is  likewise  only  one  known  field  for 
these— consciousness.  All,  aside  from  physical  facts,  that 
occurs  outside  of  this,  is  necessarily  unknowable.  An  al- 
leged fact,  which  is  to  be  found  anywhere  as  a  fact,  has 
but  two  avenues  through  w^hich  it  can  make  itself  known, 
the  senses  and  consciousness.  These  are  the  sole  means  by 
which  we  take  cognizance  of  any  class  of  phenomena. 
To  assert,  therefore,  the  existence  of  other  modifications  or 
changes  than  those  which  respond  to  these  two  methods  of 
knowing,  is  to  affirm  some  third  field,  wherein  events  hap- 
pen whose  nature  is  utterly  unknown  to  us,  and  of  whose 
being  we  can  at  most  have  only  an  hypothetical  and  infer- 
ential knowledge. 

Some  imperative  reason  should  be  given  for  the  accept- 
ance of  phenomena  utterly  unknown,  and  from  the  nature 
of  the  case  unknowable.  By  wdiat  principle  are  those  un- 
known modifications,  if  thought  to  exist,  classified  as  mental 
facts  ?  Something  it  would  seem  should  be  revealed  more 
distinctly  as  to  their  character,  before  they  are  assigned 
to  this  class  rather  than  to  that  of  physical  facts.  If  these 
unknown  modifications  are  acts  or  states  of  mind,  are  in 


36  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

any  way  phenomena  of  mind,  we  ouglit  to  have  provision 
made  for  them  in  our  classification  of  mental  facts.  The 
division  would  then  run  thus :  the  phenomena  of  knowing, 
of  feeling,  of  willing,  and  a  fourth  class  composed  of  certain 
unknowable  states,  acts,  conditions,  or  whatever  you  please 
to  call  them,  of  which  we  have  no  knowledge  either  in  per- 
ception or  consciousness,  and  can  say  nothing  by  way  of 
explanation.  States,  then,  of  mind  may  occur  of  which  the 
mind  itself  knows  nothing,  and  which  furnish,  neither  in 
the  field  of  thought  or  of  forces,  any  direct  jDroof  of  their 
existence.  The  argument  for  their  being  is  thus  of  the 
most  naked  and  inferential  character. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  modifications  are  modifications 
of  the  mind  itself,  and  not  of  the  nature  of  actions,  I  think 
it  must  be  granted,  that  they  are  thus  conceived  wholly 
under  the  analogy  of  material  changes,  and  that  if  they  are 
shown  to  be,  and  to  belong  anywhere,  it  is  in  the  physical, 
and  not  the  mental  world — in  the  brain,  the  instrument  of 
the  mind,  and  not  in  the  very  mind  itself.  In  this  last,  we 
know,  and  can  know,  of  no  organic  changes.  Its  own  acts 
and  states  constitute  the  sum  of  our  knowledo-e  concernino^ 
it.  IS^or  are  we  hereby  rid  of  these  alleged  modifications 
as  phenomena ;  nor  of  the  consequent  need  of  giving  some 
clue  to  their  mode  of  existence. 

We  are  thus  brought  to  the  fundamental  difliculty  of 
this  view,  that  it  tends  to  confound  the  broad  distinction  be- 
tween mental  and.  physical  facts — especially  between  men- 
tal facts  and  those  which  pertain  to  the  brain  and  nervous 
system.  Xo  matter  what  relations  exist  in  the  brain  itself, 
or  what  changes  take  place  in  it,  an  observation  and  knowl- 
edge of  these  are  no  part  of  mental  science,  and  do  not  nec- 
essarily, do  not  alone,  give  a  clue  or  explanation  to  any 
one  of  its  facts.  The  organic  functions  and  dependencies  of 
the  brain  are  matters  of  as  distinct  and  purely  physical 


SUBCONSCIOUS  FACTS.  37 

m 

knowledge,  as  those  of  tlie  liver,  and  no  changes  here  can 
reveal  to  us  the  nature  of  a  mental  state,  or  of  tlie  powers 
peculiar  to  the  mind.  We  can  no  more  find  the  mind  in 
the  brain — because  this  is  the  organ  of  thought,  tlian  we 
can  the  lite  in  the  heart,  because  this  is  the  chief  organ  of 
life ;  or  than  the  ancients  could  have  searched  it  successfully 
for  the  affections,  because  they  regarded  it  as  the  seat  of 
the  feelings.  Listen  for  a  moment  to  the  words  of  one  of 
these  modern  philosophers,  who  reject  consciousness  as  the 
field  of  mental  science. 

"  Not  only  is  the  actual  process  of  the  association  of  our 
ideas  independent  of  consciousness,  but  that  assimilation  or 
blending  of  similar  ideas,  or  of  the  like  in  different  ideas 
by  which  general  ideas  are  formed,  is  no  way  under  the 
control  or  cognizance  of  consciousness.  When  the  like  in 
two  perceptions  is  appropriated,  while  that  in  which  they 
differ  it  neglected,  it  would  seem  to  be  an  assimilative  ac- 
tion of  the  nerve-cell,  or  cells  of  the  brain,  which,  particu- 
larly modified  by  the  first  impression,  have  an  attraction  or 
affinity  for  a  like  subsequent  impression ;  the  cell  so  modi- 
fied and  so  ministerincc  takes  to  itself  that  which  is  suita- 
ble,  and  which  it  can  assimilate  or  make  of  the  same  kind 
with  itself,  while  it  rejects  for  appropriation  by  other  cells, 
that  wdiich  is  unlike  and  will  not  blend." — Maudsleifs 
Physiology  and  Pathology  of  the  Mind,  p.  17. 

It  is  difficult  to  treat  wdth  respect  explanations  like 
these.  Is  the  brain  the  only  organ  whose  cells  take  to  tliem- 
selves  "that  which  is  suitable,"  that  which  they  can  make 
of  the  same  kind  w^ith  themselves  ?  Wliy  then  do  not  tlie 
liver,  the  kidneys  think,  and  unite  like  things  in  thought 
by  resemblance  1  '^o  one  thing  is  more  separate  from  an- 
other than  is  cell-action  from  thought.     To  speak  of  the 


38  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

two  as  the  same  is  to  use  words  for  ideas.  Who,  by  observ- 
ing the  one, could  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the  other?  One 
might  watch  at  his  leisure  the  operation  of  Morse's  tele- 
graph, and,  unless  his  previous  knowledge  furnished  him 
the  solution,  make  nothing  evident  but  his  own  vacant 
mind.  Yet  the  connection  of  this  contrivance  with  lan- 
p-uao-e  is  far  more  mechanical  and  obvious  than  that  of  the 
brain  with  thought.  The  affirmation  of  subconscious  phe- 
nomena is  especially  objectionable  as  j)laying  into  material- 
istic philosophy,  as  confounding  the  distinction  between 
physical  and  mental  changes,  and  referring  real  or  imagi- 
nary modifications  of  the  brain  to  the  mind,  as  if  the  two 
were  equivalent. 

But  the  views  of  Hamilton  are  not  intentionally  open 
to  this  objection ;  let  us  briefly  consider  the  reasons  he  gives 
for  the  acceptance  of  unconscious  modifications  of  mind. 
The  first  of  these  is  the  extraordinary  power  the  mind 
sometimes  shows  of  recalling  events,  and  even  unintelligible 
sounds,  as  those  of  an  unknown  language,  long  after  every 
trace  of  them  seems  to  have  passed  from  the  memory. 
"Extensive  systems  of  knowledge  may,  in  our  ordinary 
state,  lie  latent  in  the  mind  beyond  the  sphere  of  conscious- 
ness and  the  will ;  but  in  certain  extraordinary  states  of 
organism,  may  again  come  forward  into  the  light,  and  even 
engross  the  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  its  every  day  posses- 
sions." 

In  this  argument  we  simply  meet  the  old  difficulty. 
How  does  the  mind  remember?  How  does  it  store  up 
knowledge  with  no  apparent  store-house,  accumulate  men- 
tal vigor  with  no  mental  muscle  wherein  to  lodge  it,  gain 
sharpness,  precision,  ease,  with  no  underlying  structure,  in 
wdiich  these  qualities  may  be  thought  of  as  inhering  ? 

That  memory  shows  unusual  power  under  certain  ab- 
normal conditions  of   mind   does  not  essentially  alter  the 


SUBCONSCIOUS  FACTS.  39 

character  of  that  power,  nor  introduce  new  conditions  into 
the  problem.  Physical  strength  is  not  different  in  kind 
when  exhibited  in  an  astonishing  degree  by  a  maniac,  from 
what  it  is  in  ordinary  states  of  body.  An  ordinary  act  of 
recollection  involves  the  whole  question,  involves  neither 
more  nor  less  than  an  extraordinary  one.  These  queries — 
How  does  the  mind  remember  ?  How  does  it  subjectively 
acquire  and  retain  power? — we  must  submit  are  unanswera- 
ble ;  questions  which  receive  no  light  whatever  from  any 
supposed  modifications  of  some  supposed  substance  of  the 
mind.  If  such  modifications  were  granted,  we  should  under- 
stand not  in  the  least  how  they  were  equivalent  to  acts  of 
memory,  or  productive  of  them — we  should  simply  have 
two  inexplicable  things  instead  of  one.  The  tendency  to  ask 
and  answer  such  questions  arises  from  the  physical  world, 
where  we  expect  no  change  of  powers  without  change  of 
structure.  The  early  solution  given  to  this  problem  of 
memory,  that  certain  films  escape  from  objects,  and  are  laid 
away  in  a  secret  store-house  of  the  mind,  is  just  as  good 
philosophically  as  the  latest ;  and  sprang  from  exactly  the 
same  false  tendency  to  carry  the  analogies  of  matter  into 
mind.  The  form  of  mental  action  is  not  revealed  to  us, 
and  we  have  no  clue  to  it  except  this  false  one  of  reasoning 
from  things  and  processes  totally  unlike  those  of  mind ; 
bringing  the  interpretation  of  physical  phenomena  to  intel- 
lectual facts.  We  reject  the  explanation  of  mental  power 
furnished  by  unconscious  modifications  of  mind,  because  it 
is  really  no  explanation,  making  the  subject  not  the  least 
clearer;  because  these  modifications  themselves  are  wholly 
hypothetical;  and  because  they  are  inferred  by  analogy, 
from  a  field  remote  from  the  subject  in  hand,  and  alien 
to  it. 

The  second  proof  offered,  is  allied  to  the  first.     It  is 
drawn  in  like  manner  from  the  analogies  of  the  physical 


40  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

4 

world.  The  minimum  object  wliich  the  eye  can  perceive 
may  be  conceived  as  divided  into  halves  ;  neither  of  these 
will  be  objects  of  perception,  yet  each  of  them  must  make 
a  distinct,  though  unconscious  impression  on  the  organ  of 
vision,  in  order  that  the  conjoint  effect  may  be  perceptible. 
We  have,  then,  the  first  conscious  state  in  sensation  secured 
by  effects  themselves  unrecognized.  Hence  springs  the 
inference,  a  conscious  state  of  feeling  or  thought  may  be 
preceded  by  unconscious  states  as  its  conditions.  We  ob- 
ject to  the  analogy.  The  eye  is  a  physical  organ,  lying  be- 
tween the  object  and  the  perceptive  power.  There  may  be 
in  it  action  too  slight  to  reach  the  mind.  In  the  case  which 
this  fact  is  brought  to  illustrate,  there  is  no  analogous -mid- 
dle term  between  the  mind  and  its  own  action.  The  ques- 
tion is,  whether  its  own,  its  veritable,  acts  and  states  are 
always  known  to  the  mind?  Now  these  actions  are  not 
occasioned  in  some  intermediate  substance  by  a  foreign 
cause,  and  taken  thence  by  consciousness,  or  overlooked  by 
it,  as  the  case  may  be.  There  is  no  such  medium  between 
the  mind  and  its  own  acts.  External,  physical  conditions, 
there  doubtless  are ;  but  these  constitute  no  part  of  the 
mind  itself.  Keeping  the  inquiry  itself  clearly  in  view. 
Does  the  mind  know  all  that  the  mind  itself  does,  all  that 
passes  in  it  ?  it  will  be  seen  that  the  above  analogy  casts  no 
light  upon  the  subject.  If  the  theory  is,  that  external 
forces  act  on  the  substance  of  the  mind,  or,  to  put  the  same 
thing  in  appropriate  specific  terms,  that  nervous  energy 
animates  the  brain,  and  that  a  certain  amount  of  this  influ- 
ence constitutes  thought,  while  less  amounts,  thoiigli  of  the 
same  nature,  fall  below  consciousness,  then  indeed  there  is 
an  analogy  in  the  cases,  and  the  argument  so  far  holds ;  but 
we  have  reached  out  and  out  materialism.  The  theory  on 
this  basis  offers  no  more  explanation  of  the  problem.  How 
does  a  pure  act  of  judgment  or  of  memory  take  place,  than 


SUBCONSCIOUS  FACTS.  41 

would  be  found  in  the  study  of  a  piece  of  meclianism,  a 
power-loom,  or  an  electrometer.  The  brain  is  indeed  more 
immediately  the  condition  of  the  mind's  action  than  any 
other  part  of  the  body  ;  but  the  brain,  the  body,  every  ma- 
chine and  instrument  it  uses,  are  the  conditions  to  one  or 
more  of  its  activities,  and  no  one  of  them  constitutes  the 
very  substance,  the  very  nature  of  those  activities. 

A  third  argument  is  found  in  acquired  dexterities,  as 
those  of  the  equilibrist,  or  the  musician.  It  is  asked : 
How  shall  the  separate  acts  involved  in  the  rapid  perform- 
ance of  the  musician,  each  of  which  was  originally  preceded 
by  an  act  of  volition,  be  explained,  when  established  skill 
has  banished  from  sight  this  directive  power  of  the  mind? 
One  philosopher  answers,  "  The  movements  of  mind  re- 
main, but  take  place  too  rapidly  for  distinct  observation 
and  memory."  A  second  replies,  "  They  remain,  but  remain 
as  acts  or  changes  below  consciousness."  Before  we  at- 
tempt to  judge  between  these  opinions,  it  may  be  well  to 
inquire  for  the  proof,  that  these  impulses  of  mind  remain 
at  all.  We  believe  that  the  supposed  difficulty  arises  from 
overlooking  the  nature  of  the  connection  of  the  mind  and 
of  the  body.  Much  of  the  nervous,  executive  play  of  the 
body  never  passes  under  the  cognizance  of  the  mind,  does 
not  penetrate  the  region  of  consciousness,  is  purely  auto-^ 
matic.  Some  of  this  action,  on  the  other  hand,  which  is 
usually  self-sufficient,  is  yet  open  to  the  arrest  and  modifi- 
cation of  the  mind.  Of  this  character  is  the  process  of 
breathing.  Few  will  claim  that  an  act  of  mind  is  back  of 
each  inspiration  and  expiration,  though  we  can  at  pleasure 
shorten  or  deepen,  quicken  or  retard  the  movement.  I 
may  find  myself  breathing  in  a  manner  that  is  inadequate 
or  injurious.  I  may  for  weeks  laboriously  strive  to  enlarge 
and  deepen  the  play  of  the  lungs.  I  may  succeed,  and  the 
improved  method  become  habitual  with  me.     Will  it  be 


42  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

claimed,  that  henceforward  my  inspirations  are  all  volun- 
tary, each  preceded  by  an  act  of  mind  ?  I  think  not.  The 
improved  process  is  as  automatic  as  the  previous  one,  and 
no  more  requires  subconscious  mental  acts  for  its  explana- 
tion. 

There  are  still  other  physical  movements  more  con- 
stantly voluntary,  more  rarely  involuntary.  We  thus  speak 
of  them  as  voluntary  acts,  and  seem  to  regard  them  as  under 
the  exclusive  impulse  of  the  will.  There  is  no  good  reason 
for  this.  The  fact  that  I  walk  whither  I  w^ill,  and  modify 
my  movement  as  I  will,  is  not  a  sufficient  reason  for  requir- 
ing a  distinct,  mental  act,  conscious  or  unconscious,  back  of 
each  muscular  movement  made  in  passing  over  each  rod  of 
the  road  I  am  pursuing.  The  will,  as  it  were,  by  one  voli- 
tion, belts  the  automatic  powers,  and  these  run  on  till  they 
are  again  arrested  or  redirected.  If  the  play  of  the  nervous 
energy  to  and  from  the  nervous  centres  is  sufficient  to 
secure  motion  without  consciousness  of  any  mental  action 
whatever,  as  in  the  case  of  the  heart,  is  it  not  equally  capa- 
ble of  continuing  a  motion  the  will  has  established  ?  If  we 
analyze  each  voluntary  motion,  so  called,  into  the  most 
single  muscular  movements  of  which  it  is  composed,  and 
place  a  mental  act  back  of  each,  we  have  an  absurdly  com- 
plex result,  and  one  not  in  the  least  testified  to  by  con- 
sciousness, nor  required  by  the  known  conditions  of  the 
problem.  All  the  powers  of  life  are  not  mental,  and  a 
great  share  of  the  labor  of  living  is  done  by  forces  with  a 
strength  and  movement  more  or  less,  as  the  case  may  be, 
independent  of  intellectual  control. 

In  acquired  dexterities,  volitions  are  required  for  a  time 
to  establish  and  confirm  the  automatic  movement,  but  this, 
once  settled,  is  able  to  sustain  itself  by  a  purely  vital  power, 
a  play  of  nervous  energies  without  the  direct  support  of  the 
will.     The  difficulty  of  the  question  seems  to  have  arisen 


SUBCONSCIOUS  FACTS.  43 

from  not  marking  the  degree  in  which  vital  phenomena  are 
independent  of  mental  action. 

A  fourth  argument  for  unconscious  modifications  of 
mind,  is  found  in  the  association  of  ideas.  Links  of  associa- 
tion, it  is  said,  are  frequently  omitted.  The  mind  passes 
from  number  one  to  number  five  or  eight  in  a  train  of  con- 
nections without  distinctly  recalling  the  intervening  steps. 
How  does  this  happen  ?  Does  the  mind  move  through  the 
entire  series,  though  too  rapidly  for  memory  ?  or  does  the 
unbroken  thread  lie  below  consciousness,  there  traversed  by 
the  mind  ?  The  last  query  is  thought  to  indicate  the  true 
solution.  But  is  there  any  sufiicient  reason  for  shutting  us 
up  to  these  alternatives?  Is  it  so  certain  that  the  mind 
never  makes  a  leap,  that  it  cannot  associate  five  with  eight 
directly,  omitting  altogether  six  and  seven?  Is  not  this 
also  an  act  and  a  method  of  association,  as  much  so  as  that 
which  originally  united  the  ideas  marked  five,  six,  seven 
and  eight,  respectively?  Six  scholars  stand  before  me  in 
the  recitation  room.  This  fact  of  itself  is  a  ground  of  as- 
sociation, but  it  also  gives  occasion  for  fresh  associations  of 
various  kinds,  and  so  may  cause  the  memory  on  the  pres- 
ence of  one  to  recall  any  of  the  remaining  five  by  some 
new  7iexus. 

Take  the  case  of  acquired  meanings.  A  word  may 
have  stolen  from  application  to  application  along  an  ob- 
scure path  of  subtile  connections,  till  it  has  reached  the 
twentieth  meaning.  How  many  of  these  successive  uses 
any  one  mind  shall  recall  in  employing  the  word  will  de- 
pend in  part  on  knowledge,  and  in  part  on  the  frequency 
with  which  the  word  recurs. 

The  last  meaning  may  be  the  only  one  suggested  to 
the  majority  of  minds  in  the  majority  of  cases,  though 
the  previous  ones  and  their  connections  may  be  known  to 
them,  in  whole  or  in  part.     The  word  becomes  at  length  a 


44  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

literal  term  in  its  twentieth  meaning,  attached  in  this  sig- 
nification directly  to  its  object ;  though  there  lie  between 
the  first  use  and  the  present  application  nineteen  images, 
each  of  which  has  been  carried  in  the  imagination,  impart- 
ing to  the  word  a  figurative  force  for  a  greater  or  less  length 
of  time.  What  is  to  hinder  the  mind's  going  directly  ? 
Nothing :  association  itself  prepares  the  way  for  it. 

The  explications  offered  by  unconscious  mental  acts  in- 
volve facts  far  more  obscure  than  those  explained.  This 
movement  under  the  surface  of  consciousness,  is  in  itself  a 
most  perplexing  riddle,  a  strange  something  we  know  not 
what.  Nor,  if  it  is  granted,  do  we  at  all  understand  how 
it  can  or  does  change  its  nature,  and  suddenly  issue  in  a 
movement  within  consciousness.  The  supplied  links  in 
this  theory  are  of  an  unintelligible  nature,  and  do  their 
work  in  an  unintelligible  way.  The  whole  result  is  more 
perplexing  and  obscure  than  if  we  accept  the  naked  phe- 
nomena, and  suppose  the  mind  to  pass  from  idea  to  idea,  now 
by  a  more  direct,  now  by  a  more  circuitous  route,  able  to 
do  the  first,  because  it  has  done  the  second.  The  facts 
presented  in  consciousness  are  more  manageable  by  them- 
selves than  when  surrounded  by  suppositions,  which  involve 
phenomena  unknown  and  unknowable.  The  dip  of  the 
thread  of  connections  below  consciousness  is  a  loss  of  it  for 
all  practical  and  explanatory  purposes  in  chaos  and  night. 
If  it  re-appears  in  the  realm  of  knowledge,  it  comes  like  a 
ghost  from  Hades,  in  a  mysterious  method  and  an  inex- 
plicable guise. 

The  answer,  then,  to  this  proof  is  double.  (1)  New  as- 
sociations are  constantly  obliterating  and  overriding  old  as- 
sociations. (2)  And  the  intermediate  steps  of  an  association 
often  repeated  drop  from  the  mind.  The  mind  is  able  to 
unite  directly  the  first  and  last  terms,  when  these  are  the 
only  significant  ones.     Thus  the  Roman  characters  for  four, 


BUBCONSCIOUS  FACTS.  45 

six,  seven,  eiglit,  nine,  come  to  designate  tliese  numbers  as 
readily  as  the  corresponding  Arabic  numerals,  though  at 
first  they  involve  addition  and  subtraction.  The  abbre- 
viation of  mental  processes  by  the  omission  of  familiar 
steps,  and  by  the  more  direct  union  of  remote  ones,  is  a 
cardinal  fact  in  mind. 

The  connection  of  this  idea  of  a  subconscious  region 
with  materialism  plainly  appears  in  Lewes'  Physiology  of 
Common  Life.  He  affirms :  "  that  all  nervous  centres  in 
action,  give  rise  to  Sensation^  and  thus  furnish  elements  to 
the  general  Consciousness.''^  Thus  we  are  made  to  be  con- 
scious of  all  the  muscular  and  involuntary  movements  that 
take  place  in  the  body.  This  strange  affirmation  is  thrown 
into  the  very  teeth  of  consciousness  itself,  momentarily 
affirming  the  reverse  truth  to  us  all,  on  the  purely  a  priori 
grounds,  first,  that  a  similarity  of  ganglionic  structure  in 
these  nerve-centres  implies  similarity  of  office ;  and  second, 
that  constant,  physical  impressions  must  be  made  upon 
them,  and  hence,  must  enter  consciousness. 

"  Every  such  excitement  of  the  sensitive  organism 
must  be  a  sensation.  These  sensations  will  necessarily  be 
very  various,  as  the  organs  excited,  and  the  exciting  causes, 
are  various ;  but  they  must  all  be  sensations,  they  are  all 
active  states  of  the  general  property  of  sensibility.  Ergo^ 
they  must  all  be  elements  of  consciousness."  Thus,  this 
author  so  thoroughly  identifies  physical  with  mental  states, 
that  having  established  the  first,  he  out-faces  the  mind 
itself,  and  declares  that  they  must  be  consciously  found  in 
its  record.  This  is  only  a  bolder  movement  in  the  one 
general  direction,  since  it  pretty  much  annihilates  the  dis- 
tinction between  conscious  and  subconscious  phenomena, 
and  brushes  lightly  aside  any  testimony  the  mind  itself 
may  oifer,  as  to  anything  that  is,  or  is  not,  passing  within  it. 
If  there  is   any  mockery  of   consciousness   more  extreme 


46  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

than  every  other,  it  is  this  affirmation,  that  every  peristal- 
tic motion  of  the  intestines  is  a  phenomenon  of  mind.  So 
one  mind  at  least  classifies  its  activities. 

§  8.  There  has  been  developed  in  recent  philosophy, 
especially  in  Germany,  an  increasing  disposition  to  extend 
intelligence,  as  a  state  or  energy,  to  all  forms  of  activity 
that  manifest  intelligence,  and  thns  to  confuse  the  physical 
acts  with  the  mental  energies  from  which  they  proceed. 
The  strength  with  which  the  conviction  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  philosophy,  that  certain  physical  states  are  the 
equivalents  of  certain  mental  ones,  is  very  great.  We 
must,  therefore,  meet  it  in  its  various  forms  of  assertion, 
since  the  phenomena  of  mind  cannot  be  profitably  discussed 
till  their  independent  primary  character  is  established,  and 
their  limits  laid  down.  A  bold,  firm  line  of  division  be- 
tween the  physical  and  the  intellectual  realms  is  a  cardinal 
necessity.  J.  J.  Murphy,  in  a  work  on  Hahit  and  Intelli- 
gence, presents  this  phase  of  opinion  under  which  intelli- 
gence blends  with  and  is  lost  in  the  physical.  Sensation 
and  thought  are  regarded  by  him  as  in  their  own  nature  un- 
conscious ;  consciousness  is  quite  a  secondary  phenomenon. 
"  So  far  from  consciousness  being  necessary  to  intelligence, 
unconscious  intelligence  is  the  rule,  and  conscious  intelli- 
gence the  exception.  Intelligence  presides  over,  as  an  in- 
dwelling power,  all  vital  action — formative,  motor,  mental — • 
and  is  as  significant  a  term  in  one  portion  as  another  of  the 
vital  process."'^  The  author  does  not  mean  by  this  that 
a  conscious  Divine  Intelligence  orders  the  organic  process, 
but  an  unconscious  constructive  intelligence.  There  is,  by 
figure  of  speech,  intelligence  in  the  steam-engine,  but  it  is 
the  intelligence  of  the  machinist.  This  view  implies  some- 
thing more,  it  identifies  intelligence  with  physical  organic 
processes ;  or  with  some  inherent  unconscious  force  that  is 

*  Consult  the  earlier  chapter?  of  the  second  volume. 


INTELLIGENCE.  47 

supposed  to  control  them.  We  have,  therefore,  in  it  simply 
a  degradation  of  the  word  intelligence.  The  conscious  act 
of  thought,  and  a  physical  fact  in  nerv^e-tissue, — or  in  plant- 
tissue — must  forever  remain  incomparable  phenomena, 
things  most  distinct,  most  diverse  from  each  other.  To  call 
both  intelligence,  is  only  to  lose  a  division  in  one  form, 
which  we  must  speedily  restore  in  another.  The  things 
themselves  we  can  not  long  confound.  A  physical  fact, 
however  subtile,  occurring  in  no  matter  how  impalpable  a 
medium,  can  not  be,  nor  in  any  way  represent,  a  thought,  a 
feeling,  a  volition  in  consciousness.  Even  if  we  were  to 
grant  that  a  definite  physical  fact  is  the  antecedent  of  a 
mental  one,  it  would  not  follow  that  the  two  are  equivalent. 
We  can  not  talk  of  shadows  without  light ;  shadows  are  not 
latent  in  darkness,  no  more  than  statues  are  latent  in  mar- 
ble. Shadows  are  to  be  thought  of  and  discussed  only  with 
the  light.  When  this  comes,  there  are  shadows ;  when 
consciousness  is  present,  there  are  thoughts.  If  we  call 
any  lower  states  thoughts,  feelings,  intelligence,  when  the 
true  thoughts  approach,  we  must  look  about  us  for  a  new 
and  more  princely  appellation.  To  speak  of  unconscious 
intelligence  is  to  discuss  shadows,  images,  and  reflections, 
with  no  mention  of  light.  To  speak  of  intelligence  which 
is  not  conscious  intelligence,  is  either  to  use  figurative  or 
unmeaning  language.  If  we  say  of  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare, that  they  are  intelligent,  we  mean  either  that 
they  sprang  from  intelligence  in  him,  or  awaken  intelli- 
gence in  us ;  or,  under  human  experience,  we  mean  noth- 
ing. Things  may  be  intelligible,  they  are  not  intelligent. 
Neither  thought  nor  language  justifies  the  idea  of  intelli- 
gence in  things. 

A  feeling  of  which  we  are  not  aware,  a  thought  of 
which  we  are  not  conscious,  are  simply  a  feeling  we  do  not 
feel,  a  thought  we  do  not  think.     We  can  only  fall  back,  in 


48  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

connection  with  such  a  use  of  language  into  utter  vague- 
ness, or  onto  purely  physical  states. 

He  also  says  :  "  Sensation  and  consciousness  are  both 
feelings.  To  use  logical  language,  feeling  is  the  genus  of 
which  sensation  and  consciousness  are  species."*  Hamilton 
regarded  consciousness  as  a  general  term  for  knowledge, 
and  here  it  is  ranked  as  a  specific  feeling  with  the  feelings. 
Hamilton  would  say  that  we  know  that  we  feel,  and  Mur- 
phy that  we  feel  that  we  know,  while  the  fact  is  tliat  we 
both  know  and  feel  as  simple,  sufiicient  states  of  mind. 
Mr.  Murphy  proceeds  to  refer,  in  a  curious  way  of  his  own, 
distinct  states  of  mind  to  distinct  nervous  acts ;  but  the 
theory  is,  in  reference  to  every  one  of  its  significant  asser- 
tions, absolutely,  purely  hypothetical,  is  semi-mechanical 
and  completely  physical ;  if  granted  throughout  it  explains 
nothing  in  mind  proper,  but  serves  rather  to  obscure  and 
destroy  the  fundamental  connections  of  thought  and 
thought,  thought  and  feeling,  thought,  feeling,  and  voli- 
tion. These  physical  theories  of  mind  are  wonderful  ex- 
amples of  explanations,  fictitious  in  their  data,  futile  in  their 
expositions,  and  destructive  of  the  facts  expounded. 

There  hold  against  them,  one  and  all,  these  objections ; 

(1)  They  rest  on  no  one  known  fact  broad  enough  to  sus- 
tain them.  The  correspondence  of  a  definite  state  of  brain 
with  an  exact  and  pure  mental  state  has  not  in  a  single 
instance  been  made  out ;  much  less  has  it  been  shown, 
that  the  first  is  the  invariable  antecedent  of  the  second. 

(2)  These  solutions  proceed  on  qualities  and  relations 
whicli  belong  to  matter  rather  than  to  mind.  (3)  They 
thus  subvert  instead  of  expound  the  plienomena  to  which 
they  are  applied.  (4)  The  explanations  fail  at  the  very 
moment  at  which  they  should  take  effect.  As  long  as  the 
terms  are  physical,  they  are  coherent,  but  at  the  instant  of 

*  Plabit  and  Intelligence,  vol.  ii.  p.  13. 


UNCONSCIOUS  CEREBRATION.  40 

transition  all  light  disappears.  Nor  can  tins  failure  to 
show  how  or  why  the  physical  fact  is  productive  of  the 
mental  one  be  helped  by  the  analogy  of  the  senses.  That 
a  series  of  physical  effects  in  the  senses  should  j)roduce 
effects  in  the  mind  every  way  nnlike  themselves,  and  so  be 
the  ground  of  a  knowledge  of  the  external  world,  is  a  fact 
of  a  very  different  order  from  the  assertion,  that  certain 
physical  states  and  relations  are  the  invariable  equivalents 
of  corresponding  mental  ones.  Two  points  are  overlooked 
by  the  analogy,  that  perceptions  and  thoughts  are  sharply 
distinguished  from  each  by  this  very  dependence  of  the 
one  on  physical  facts,  and  the  independence  of  the  other ; 
and  that  the  whole  nervous  structure  has  plain  reference  to, 
the  one  form  of  intercommunication,  and  no  known  ref- 
erence, obvious  or  obscure,  to  the  other  form  of  relation. 

The  notion  of  subconscious  phenomena  has  been  one  so 
vague,  so  vacillating  between  physical  and  mental  facts,  that 
it  could  not  long  hold  its  ground.  There  were  three  fatal 
objections  to  it :  (1)  It  had  no  assignable  place  or  form  for 
its  alleged  facts.  A  subconscious  region  was  as  unintelligi- 
ble as  a  post-conscious  or  ante-conscious  or  super-conscious 
region  would  have  been.  Indeed,  it  implied  them  all.  (2) 
It  had  no  means  of  arriving  at  its  facts.  The  senses  might 
reach  phj^sical  things,  consciousness  might  lay  open  mental 
phenomena,  but  what  perceptive  power  should  explore  this 
subconscious  territory?  (3)  These  phenomena,  as  wholly 
beyond  the  mind's  construction,  could  serve  for  it  no  possible 
explanatory  purpose.     They  were  merely  verbal  lumber. 

As  the  advocates  of  this  new  tendency  began  to  fathom 
more  deeply  the  conclusions  contained  in  their  premises, 
the  inadequacy  of  the  old  statement  became  apparent,  and 
has  been  mainly  displaced  by  that  of  "  unconscious  cerebra- 
tion." Cerebrations,  actions  of  brain,  are  supposed  to  have 
the  force  of  mental  facts,  and  are  of  two  orders,  conscious 


50  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

and  unconscious.  Thought  is  made  so  dependent  on  cere- 
bration that  if  cerebration  proceeds,  it  is  regarded  as  im- 
material whether  it  is  accompanied  by  consciousness  or  not. 
The  mind  may  be  borne  forward  in  its  intellectual  processes 
by  acts  of  unconscious  cerebration.  We  may  travel  by  day  or 
by  night,  waking  or  sleeping,  to  our  intellectual  destination. 
The  wheels  roll  on  without  our  observation.  This  theory 
of  course  involves  the  pre-eminence  of  the  cerebral  state, 
and  the  progress  of  thought  is  made  incident  to  its  progress. 
The  sun  casts  a  shadow  on  a  dial ;  it  is  hidden  by  clouds  for 
a  time,  and  then  again  shines  forth ;  the  hands  have  ad- 
vanced on  the  disk,  and  the  index  line,  as  if  it  had  stolen  on 
its  way  unobserved,  falls  at  the  appropriate  figure.  This 
view  should  recognize  distinctly,  and  state  clearly,  that  the 
intellectual  movement  is  incident  to,  and  controlled  by,  the 
physical  one.  Certainly  an  intellectual  process  as  an  in- 
tellectual one  cannot  progress  in  unconsciousness,  any  more 
than  a  shadow  as  a  shadow  can  travel  in  darkness. 

This  is  the  fatal  objection  to  unconscious  cerebration ;  it 
subverts  or  obscures  the  true  line  of  dependence.  We  do 
not  deny,  that,  as  the  organ  limits  the  activity  of  the  mind^ 
its  special  states  enter  as  a  factor  of  moment  into  each  re- 
sult. But  so  also  does  the  condition  of  our  muscles  settle 
the  effective  force  of  the  will ;  yet  the  physical  energy  does 
not  predetermine  the  voluntary  power.  No  more  does  a 
process  of  cerebration  precede  and  causally  determine  the 
mental  activity  it  expresses. 

Dr.  Carpenter,  in  his  Mental  Physiology,  presents  fully, 
and  in  its  best  form,  the  doctrine  of  unconscious  cerebra- 
tion. Many  of  the  reasons  wliich  sustain  it  are  tliose  already 
sufficiently  considered  in  connection  with  unconscious  men- 
tal action.  The  additional  points  made  by  Dr.  Carpenter 
we  will  consider.  This  doctrine  is  so  generally  accepted, 
and  is  so  destructive  of  true  mental  powers,  that  we  feel 


UNCONSCIOUS  CEREBRATION.  51 

desirous  to  return  to  it  as  often  as  any  additional  liglit  can 
be  shed  upon  it. 

It  is  a  common  experience,  if  a  difficult  problem,  or  a 
theme  to  be  discussed,  is  called  before  the  mind  and  then 
passed  by  for  a  time,  that  the  thoughts  revert  to  it  later 
with  unexpected  advantage;  that  a  certain  mastery  of 
the  topic  seems  to  have  been  achieved  in  the  interval. 
This  new  power,  often  very  considerable,  is  referred  to  un- 
conscious cerebration,  a  process  of  thought  that  has  gone 
forward,  as  it  were,  in  the  substance  of  the  brain.  The 
moment  the  favorite  and  favorable  words  are  dropped,  the 
argument,  it  will  be  observed,  loses  probability.  "  Uncon- 
scious cerebration,"  guides  the  mind  to  the  conclusion  more 
smoothly  than  the  equivalent  expression  a  physical  change 
in  cerebral  states.  We  have  here  the  trick  of  a  phrase. 
These  gains  of  thought,  we  think,  may  be  much  more 
wisely  ascribed  to  the  frequent  reversion  of  the  mind  to 
the  subject,  and  its  leisurely  consideration  of  it  in  a  variety 
of  lights,  though  the  times  of  such  secondary  occupation, 
extending  over  considerable  periods  and  thrown  into  the 
shadow  of  other  events,  are  not  conspicuous  in  memory; 
indeed,  like  any  transient  under-current  of  thought,  may 
have  quite  escaped  it.  Few  of  these  interstitial  states  can 
we  recall  at  the  close  of  a  week.  If  the  topic  is  not  a 
familiar  one,  does  not  lie  in  the  line  of  our  pursuits ;  if  it 
is  not  a  habit  with  us  to  return  more  or  less  frequently  to 
a  discussion  once  present  to  the  mind,  we  shall  find  the 
gains  of  delay  very  slight.  If,  however,  we  are  accustomed 
to  restore  a  theme,  to  recast  the  thoughts  at  odd  moments, 
and  to  gather  new  material  as  the  process  proceeds,  then 
the  yield  of  the  under-drift  will  be  correspondingly  large. 
This  fact,  which  is  the  significant  feature  of  the  general 
fact  of  acquisition  by  delay,  shows  that  the  mind  does 
keep  its  intellectual  garden  in  growth  by  indirect  and  un- 


52  THE  FIFLD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

obtrusive,  though  real,  attentions.  Cease  to  sustain  uncon- 
scious cerebration  by  voluntary  effort,  and  it  will  cease  to 
be  a  noticeable  fact.  Alien  subjects  will  gain  little  by  de- 
lay. Insight,  following  time  and  rest,  is  the  fruit  of  a  vig- 
orous habit  of  mind.  This  result  is  due  to  the  normal  ac- 
tivity of  the  thoughts.  It  is  no  matter  of  surprise  that  the 
slight,  forgotten  exertions  of  the  passing  days  may,  at  the 
close  of  a  year,  yield  a  respectable  aggregate  of  results. 

Unconscious  cerebration  as  a  fact  is  certainly  not  easier 
of  comprehension  than  that  which  it  is  here  brought  forward 
to  explain.  If  a  physical  activity,  self -directed  and  self- 
sustaining,  can  be  the  exact  equivalent  in  intellectual  results 
of  the  wisest  thought,  then  thought  as  thought  is  no  longer 
coherent,  and  a  chain  of  reasoning  can  be  made  up  of  alter- 
nate links  of  physical  and  mental,  conscious  and  unconscious 
facts.  When  we  do  understand  a  subject,  reach  a  conclu- 
sion, we  understand  it  from  heginning  to  end;  and  in  that 
final  act  of  comprehension  we  leave  no  room  for  any  merely 
j^hysical  facts,  facts  which  in  their  transpiring  were  not 
acts  of  knowledge,  nor  are  now  acts  of  knowledge.  The 
intellectual  act  of  comprehension  is  complete,  and  receives 
no  known  aid  from  a  previous  unconscious  act  of  cerebra- 
tion. The  conscious  act  is  the  act,  and  this  is  sufficient  to 
itself.  It  is  not  in  the  least  plain  how  an  intellectual  diffi- 
culty can  be  overcome  in  unconsciousness,  ignorance  or 
error  be  flanked  in  the  night-time.  We  must  first  say  that 
physical  states  determine  mental  states,  and  are  themselves 
determined  by  previous  physical  states,  before  unconscious 
cerebration  can  afford  us  any  aid ;  that  is  to  say,  we  accept 
this  philosophy  first,  and  then  get  what  light  we  can  from 
it ;  we  are  are  not  led  to  it  by  its  own  light.  But  the  phi- 
losophy takes  away  all  coherence  from  our  intellectual  life, 
subverts  all  its  relations. 

A  second  fact  urged  by  Dr.  Carpenter  is  the  sudden  en- 


UNCONSCIOUS  CEBEBRA.TIO^i  ,  /•       ^3 .  / 

trance  of  a  new  idea  or  ideas  into  the  mind  ;  t\l/)f^tnni  6p>  ^ 

something  which  the  memory  had  struggled  for  YhH-diw^       ^ 
the  instant  presence  of  a  fortunate  conception  comple'tii^         / ' 
an  invention.     These  facts   are  plainer  to  us  as  ultimate^/       ^ 
facts,  as  successful  efforts  of  mind,  allied  to  that  by  which  ,. 
we  correctly  articulate  a  sound  we  have  long  striven  to  no 
purpose  to  utter,  than  they  are  when  •  burdened  with  facts 
of  cerebration  whose  very  being  is  conjectural,  and  whose 
mode  of  operation  is  unintelligible.     A  subject  is  not  ex- 
plained by  two  difScnlties. 

Still  less  proof  is  there  in  the  inventive  moods  of  gen- 
ius, the  unusual  power  that  falls  to  the  mind  on  one  occa- 
sion and  deserts  it  on  another.  The  periods  between  these 
liours  of  advantage  are  often  very  irregular,  and  may  have 
little  to  do  with  the  direction  in  which  the  thoughts  liave 
been  tending.  They  are  preceded  by  no  indications  of  an 
unconscious  cerebration,  but  more  frequently  follow  upon 
lassitude,  indolence,  restfulness,  passing  again  into  activity. 
Careful  preparation  sometimes  fails  of  its  object,  and  an 
inventive  flow  will  at  another  time  be  present  to  the  speaker 
or  writer  independently  of  previous  effort.  These  shifting 
moods  of  mind  are  partially  explicable  by  physical  fatigue 
or  vigor;  but  involve  many  conditions  not  traceable  to 
uniform  causes.  The  mind,  if  not  capricious,  takes  up  and 
lays  down  its  strength  in  a  way  often  too  subtile  for  our 
analysis.  Invention  remains  invention,  a  quick  ^^utting- 
forth  of  power,,  sometimes  from  restful  energy,  sometimes 
from  irritable  force.  Observation  lends  no  support  to  the 
doctrine  that  there  is  a  slow  unconscious  accumulation  of 
thought-products  in  the  brain,  which,  like  waters  in  an  in- 
termittent fountain,  are  suddenly  poured  fortli.  The 
mind,  like  the  will,  has  reserved  force  by  which  it  can 
achieve  great  and  sudden  results,  and  these,  too,  in  unex- 
pected directions. 


64  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

There  are  some  facts  in  abnormal  states  especially  diffi- 
cult of  explanation  under  the  idea  that  conscious  states  are 
predetermined  by  acts  of  cerebration.  There  are  those 
double  experiences,  double  states  of  consciousness,  which 
proceed  each  under  its  own  impressions,  and  totally  suspend 
each  other  with  an  abrupt  transition.  Can  two  series  of 
physical  states  utterly  diverse,  each  coherent  within  itself, 
and  incoherent  in  reference  to  the  other,  go  forward  in  the 
brain,  arresting  one  another  in  an  irregular  yet  decisive 
way  ?  Possibly,  but  few  would  have  the  boldness  to  affirm 
that  such  a  fact  is  plain  enough  to  be  offered  as  the  solution 
of  any  other  fact,  that  capricious  physical  states  are  more 
explicable  than  capricious  intellectual  ones,  so  much  more 
so  as  be  able  to  account  for  the  latter. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  two  hemispheres  of  the  brain 
take  up  a  disconnected  instead  of  a  concurrent  action,  and 
so  give  grounds  for  a  divided  consciousness.  If  this  theory 
is  to  have  any  weight,  if  the  implied  facts  are  not  far  too 
obscure  and  uncertain  to  explain  anything,  it  must  still  in- 
volve, we  think,  some  transfer  of  attention  on  the  part  of 
the  mind,  akin  to  that  by  w^iich  we  see  through  one  or  the 
other  eye.  The  physical  states  of  brain  in  its  two  halves 
are  doubtless  continuous,  and,  if  the  controlling  source 
of  impressions,  must  give  continuous  impressions. 

We  ought,  therefore,  if  states  of  brain  determine  men- 
tal states,  to  have  two  coetaneous  mental  experiences,  instead 
of  a  consecutive  experience  made  up  of  alternate  parts. 
The  latter  fact  seems  to  imply  the  unity  of  mind,  and  that 
superiority  by  which  it  shifts  its  organs,  calling  them  into 
service  or  letting  them  drop  from  it.  Thus,  if  the  axis  of 
the  eyes  are  thrown  out  of  relation,  the  mind  soon  learns  to 
use  one  eye  to  the  neglect  of  the  other. 

This  idea  of  cerebration  proceeds  on  that  of  an  ante- 
cedent physical    causation   of   mental   states,  and   a  strict 


UNCONSCIOUS  CEREBRATION.  55 

equivalence  of  these  effects  with  their  causes.  Each 
thought,  feeling,  volition,  every  combination  of  these  must 
be  the  exact  counterpart  of  a  correspondingly  definite  state 
of  the  brain.  Every  thought,  and  every  possible  thought 
on  every  possible  topic,  stand  in  correspondence  to  some 
form  of  cerebration.  We  think  of  Paris  by  one  state  of 
brain,  of  London  by  a  second,  of  Pekin  by  a  third,  and  of 
each  person  and  thing  in  these  cities  by  still  other  forms  of 
physical  activity.  This  is  a  complexity  of  conception  quite 
startling  and  wholly  unnecessary. 

It  follows  from  placing  efficient  causation  solely  in  the 
physical  world.     Admit  independent  power  in  the  mind 
and  this  reasoning  at  once  loses  its  force.     ]^o  definite  state 
of  the  muscles  decides  whether  the  strength  put  forth  shall 
be  expended  in  lifting  a  pound  of  lead,  or  one  of  iron,  or  of 
stone ;  whether  the  person  shall  walk  toward  the  north,  or 
the  south,  or  the  south-east.     A  certain  energy,  for  what 
purpose  soever  employed,  taxes  the  muscles  to  a  certain  de- 
gree ;  and  this  fact  is  the  simple  condition  of  its  exertion. 
It  is  not  a  driven  molecular  state  of  the  muscles  which  set- 
ties  directions  and  offices,  but  the  living  agent  who  employs 
the  muscles.     The  antecedent  cerebral  state  may  neither 
determine  the  form  of  the  force,  nor,  save  under  general 
conditions,   its    degree.     The    efficiency   deciding   on   the 
special  kind  of  activity  is  found  in  the  mind,  not  in  the 
brain  ;  for  the  mind  is  something  other  and  more  than  the 
brain  and  its  functions,  as  the  engineer  is  something  more 
than  the  engine.     Assigning  a  definite  intellectual  state  to 
an  equally  definite  state  of  brain,  we  shall  be  unable  to  ac- 
count for  the  slight  effect  on  the  mind  of  accidents  attended 
with  a  loss  of  the  substance  of  the  brain,  or  for  the  restora- 
tion of  memories  which  have  once  been  lost  by  disease.     It 
is  certainly  not  easy  to  refer  this  renewal  to  a  subtile  super- 
intendence that  in  the  passage  of  months  slowly  builds  up 


56  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

the  brain-tissue  under  the  previous  pattern,  with  exactly 
the  previous  action. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  senses,  as  sight,-  show  a  like 
complexity  in  the  molecular  changes  by  which  facts  are 
indicated  to  the  mind.  In  this  analogical  example  several 
things  are  overlooked.  There  has  been  a  very  protracted 
and  complicated  development  of  each  special  organ  of  sense 
for  this  very  purpose,  the  registration  of  external  causes. 
Just  here  lies  the  widest  difference  between  perception  and 
pure  thought. 

Even  in  the  senses  each  impression,  though  complex  in 
itself,  gives  a  clear  field  for  the  next  impression.  It  exists 
only  so  long  as  an  external  cause  sustains  it,  and  Avholly 
disappears  in  making  way  for  another.  If  we  press  the 
organ  beyond  these  limits,  as  the  eye  by  the  rapid  motion 
of  the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  its  power  of  discrimination  is 
lost.  If  we  search  this  analogy,  thoroughly,  therefore,  as 
we  must  to  make  it  an  argument,  it  tends  to  the  opposite 
conclusion,  that  there  are  no  definite  lines  of  causation 
other  than  those  manifestly  laid  down  in  the  senses.  The 
senses,  also,  work  by  discontinuance  not  by  continuity. 
To  make  the  analogy  applicable,  the  eye  should  not  merely 
see  the  new  thing,  but  retain  all  previous  things. 

§  9.  We  need  to  understand  more  definitely  the  relation 
of  the  mind  to  its  immediate  instrument,  the  cerebrum,  as  a 
means  of  determining  the  proper  character  of  mental  phe- 
nomena, and  their  degree  of  independence.  The  mind  and 
the  brain  are  reciprocally  dependent  on  each  other,  the 
states  and  activities  of  tlie  one  affecting  tlie  states  and 
activities  of  the  otlier.  Yv^e  may  represent  this  relation  by 
that  of  two  wheels  which  press  each  other  at  their  circum- 
ferences, and  so,  in  their  revolutions,  mutually  impel  each 
other.  The  moving  force  may  be  transferred  from  one  to 
the  other,  but  expends  itself  in  either  case  in  the  revolution 


RELATION  OF  THE  BRAIN  AND   TUE  MIND.        57 

of  both.  Indeed,  a  concurrent  impulse  may  be  applied  to 
each  wheel ;  and  in  any  given  revolutions  the  eye  may 
not  be  able  to  decide  in  which  the  balance  of  force  or  the 
entire  force  is  to  be  found.  The  relation,  however,  be- 
tween the  mind  and  the  cerebrum  is  not  doubtless  of  that 
exactly  reciprocal,  equivalent  character  implied  by  the  com- 
parison; the  two  do  not  stand  to  each  other  on  the  same 
plane  of  causation,  nor  is  it  in  their  normal  action  a  matter 
of  indifference  by  w^hich  of  the  two  the  power  is  applied. 
Their  real  relation  to  each  other  is  complex,  can  only  be 
disclosed  by  a  consideration  of  the  facts,  and  then  but 
partially. 

Activity  of  brain  always  accompanies  activity  of  mind. 
(1)  This  is  shown  by  the  destruction  of  brain-tissue  inci- 
dent to  energetic  thought.  A  sensible  increase  of  the 
waste  due  to  nervous  tissue  attends  on  such  action.  We 
instantly  conclude,  and  probably  correctly,  that  the  corre- 
spondence indicated  is  complete,  and  that  all  mental  effort 
has  an  exactly  equivalent  expression  in  brain-action,  and 
so  in  decomposition.  (2)  The  fatigue  and  nervous  exhaus- 
tion that  accompany  thought  contain  the  same  conclusion. 
We  attribute  these  to  the  expenditure  of  nervous  ener- 
gy, with  its  destruction  of  tissue.  (3)  The  renovation  inci- 
dent to  rest  sustains  the  argument.  Sleep  is  the  best 
restorative  of  mental  functions,  and  sleep  seems  to  bring 
peculiar  repose  to  the  brain  through  repose  of  the  volun- 
tary powers,  and  so  to  make  way  for  nutrition  and  refresh- 
ment. 

The  reverse  of  this  proposition  is  not  so  evident,  that 
all  activity  of  the  cerebrum  is  accompanied  by  activity  of 
mind.  (1)  We  should  not  know  what  mental  state,  for  in- 
stance, to  refer  to  the  reconstructive  processes  that  pro- 
ceed in  sleep  or  in  restful  hours ;  (2)  nor  what  modifications 
of  thought  to  ascribe  to  incipient  disease  of  the  brain  that 


58  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

lias  not  proceeded  to  the  point  of  overthrowing  mental 
equilibrium.  (3)  The  loss  of  brain  also  that  has  frequently 
attended  on  accidents,  when  a  comparison  is  made  between 
previous  and  subsequent  mental  states,  does  not  show  any 
exact  equivalence  between  cerebral  and  mental  activity,  nor 
that  the  first,  is  in  reference  to  the  second,  a  measureable 
force,  calling,  in  every  variation,  for  a  measurable  corre- 
spondence. The  brain  may  be  materially  reduced  even  in 
bulk  with  immaterial  or  vacillating  results.  (4)  Its  en- 
tire automatic  action,  as  well  as  organic  action,  proceeds 
also,  with  little  or  no  trace  on  mental  states. 

States  of  brain  at  all  times  affect  and  at  times  control 
states  of   mind.     (1)  The   general   dependence   of   mental 
power  on  the  size,  form,  quality  of  the  cerebrum  shows  this 
functional  connection.     None  can  doubt  that  mental  power, 
in  its  manifestation,  is  proportioned  to  the  vigor  of  nervous 
action.     The  condition  of  the  physical  instrument  is,  in  a 
large  measure,  that  of  the  mental  agent.     This  is  a  fact  of 
daily  observation.     (2)  Vivisection  puts  this  truth  beyond 
question.      Though    mental   powers   do    not   disappear  in 
definite  order  and  degree  with  specific  portions  of  the  cere- 
brum, they  are  disturbed  by  its  injury,  and  lost  by  its  re- 
moval.    (3)  Diseases  of  the  brain  complete  the  proof.     In- 
sanity, partial  hallucinations  in  a  great  variety  of  forms, 
are   the  constant  accompaniments  of  cerebral  disturbance. 
Not    only   does   such   disease   diminish   mental  power,  it 
strangely  modifies  that  which  remains.     The  thoughts  seem 
to  be  the  sport  of  abnormal,  physical  conditions.     If  the 
mind   struggles  occasionally  for  self-possession,  it  is   soon 
overwhelmed  again,  and  floated  on  by  the  current.     We 
must,  therefore,  grant  that,  at  least  in  some  instances,  physi- 
cal states  seems  to  be  tlie  efficient,  determining  causes  of 
mental  ones ;  though  even  in  these  cases   the  final  result 
combines  the  two  series   of  forces,  physical  and  mental. 


THE  BRAIN  AND   THE  MIND,  59 

The  proof  does  not  carry  this  conviction,  that  cerebral  con- 
ditions establish  and  define  mental  ones,  but  only  that  they 
are  often  an  immediate,  irresistible  provocation  to  them  ; 
as  bad  digestion  to  bad  dreams.  Physical  states  may  over- 
power the  mind,  and  the  form  of  the  hallucination  still  be 
due  to  the  mind.  The  fever  may  induce  a  very  diverse 
delirium  in  different  persons.  The  two  sets  of  causes  are 
concurrent  in  the  result. 

The  reverse  proposition  we  confidently  offer  as  present- 
ing more  important  and  more  obvious  truth.  Pure  mental 
states  affect  and  usually  control  cerebral  ones.  (1)  This  is 
the  manifest  and  unavoidable  conclusion  from  the  fact  of 
thought.  Thought  involves  the  evolution  of  one  mental 
state  from  a  previous  mental  state,  the  attaching  of  a  second 
conception  or  judgment  to  a  former  one.  If  it  is  not  this, 
it  ceases  to  be  thought,  and  becomes  illusion.  Even  imag- 
ination evokes  its  images  one  from  another,  unites  them  by 
a  mental  connection.  If  one  thought,  as  in  the  proof  of  a 
proposition,  follows  another,  not  by  an  inherent  connection, 
a  mental  dependence,  but  by  the  relation  of  successive  phys- 
ical states  in  the  brain,  then  we  are  utterly  at  fault  in  the 
entire  thought-process,  and  it  is  something  quite  other  than 
we  have  supposed  it  to  be.  The  images  of  the  imagination 
even  can  not  be  shadows  that  chase  each  other  on  the  screen 
by  an  outside,  alien  law,  much  less  can  the  successive  judg- 
ments of  coherent  thought  be  united  independently  of  the 
thinking  agent.  Reasons  cohere,  thoughts  coalesce,  con- 
clusions are  evolved  from  premises,  and  these  facts  imply 
that  a  previous  mental  state  is,  in  connection  with  the  un- 
derlying powers  of  the  mind,  the  efficient  source  of  a  suc- 
ceeding one ;  that  the  nexus  is  a  mental  efficiency,  and  not 
a  physical  one.  Reasoning,  as  the  result  of  a  series  of  cer- 
ebral states  united  by  unknown  physical  forces,  is  utterly 
incomprehensible,  is  subversive  of  our  most  direct  primitive 


60  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

and  constant  convictions.  Here  is  a  proof  that  can  not  be 
escaped  without  quite  displacing  the  foundations  of  truth. 
Argument  itself  is  destroyed  by  such  a  conclusion,  and  so 
this  conclusion  is  lost  in  the  general  wreck  of  all  conclu- 
sions. We  quite  deceive  ourselves  in  argument,  if  convic- 
tion is  only  a  series  of  states  induced  by  causes  entirely 
blind,  wholly  alien  to  the  process. 

(2)  The  relation  of  intellectual  feelings  to  the  convic- 
tions that  call  them  forth  presents  a  kindred  proof.  Words 
are  spoken  in  our  hearing  which  stand  connected  with  our 
own  sentiments,  actions  are  performed  which  affect  our 
interests ;  immediately  there  spring  up  decided  feelings, 
we  accept  or  we  disapprove  the  opinions  or  the  conduct. 
These  states  of  feeling  are  plainly  due  to  the  mental  ac- 
tion by  which  the  bearings  of  the  words  or  the  transactions 
are  disclosed  to  us.  The  intrinsic  order  and  dependence 
are  quite  subverted,  if  it  turns  out  that  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings alike  have  been  thrown  in  upon  us  in  a  secondary  way 
by  the  motion  of  physical  forces  interlocked  among  them- 
selves, covering  all  real  efficiency,  and  expounding  the  se- 
quence of  the  shadowy  states  of  conciousness  by  their  own 
independent  and  firm  connections.  Our  higher  emotional 
life  is  unintelligble  on  this  supposition,  and  its  apparent 
dependencies  quite  illusory. 

(3)  The  same  is  true  with  a  like  startling  and  fatal  con- 
tradiction of  our  daily  convictions  in  the  case  of  our  voli- 
tions. AVe  refer  these  to  the  motives,  to  the  intellectual 
and  emotional  states,  that  precede  them,  while  the  actions 
that  follow  them  we  attribute  to  the  volitions  themselves. 
This  interpretation,  under  the  hypothesis  that  cerebral 
states  wholly  determine  mental  ones,  is  completely  erro- 
neous, and  thoughts,  feelings,  volitions,  actions  are  impotent 
in  reference  to  each  other;  they  are  rolled  off,  as  the  pano- 
rama proceeds,  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  there  intro- 


TUE  BRAIN  AND   THE  MIND.  61 

duced,  l)j  synclironous,  physical  agencies.  Herein  is  the 
subversion  of  all  mental  processes.  What  matters  it,  what 
we  think,  if  there  is  no  logical  coherence  in  thought  ?  how 
we  feel,  if  there  are  no  just  or  unjust  grounds  of  feeling  ? 
how  we  act,  if  there  is  for  action,  within  itself,  no  cohe- 
rent law  ?  By  this  view,  truly  understood,  intellectual  and 
moral  life  are  alike  suspended,  and  are  left  the  unsubstan- 
tial shades  of  their  former  selves.  Under  this  hypothesis 
words  must  act  as  physical  forces,  inducing  a  cerebral  state 
incident  to  which  is  a  certain  thought  or  feeling.  It  is  not 
by  virtue  of  the  conception  which  is  called  forth  that  they 
are  efficient  agents,  but  the  conception  itself  is  one  among 
the  secondary  states  that  attend  on  the  primary  sequence  of 
forces  in  the  nervous  system.  Thoughts,  feelings,  voli- 
tions, are  as  the  shadows  of  the  cars ;  the  cars  are  coupled, 
and  the  links  of  the  shadows  are  the  images  of  these  coup- 
lings. 

(4)  It  would  be  difficult,  also,  under  this  reference  of 
mental  states  to  physical  causes  to  explain  the  extended  and 
exact  agreements  between  men  in  their  mental  action. 
Why  are  the  principles  and  processes  of  mathematics  the 
same  for  all,  except  through  their  relation  to  the  mind  ? 
And  why  are  other  truths  so  diversely  viewed  save 
through  divergent  intellectual  conditions  ?  These  remark- 
able agreements  and  disagreements  are  referred,  and  must 
be  referred,  to  the  relations  of  the  mind  to  truth.  Truths 
that  are  simply  deposited  by  similar  physical  processes, 
should  show  no  such  complete  agreement,  nor  no  such  wide 
diversity.  Constitutional  resemblances,  the  physical  condi- 
tions of  habit  and  inheritance  should  control  them,  as  they 
do  the  texture  of  the  skin,  the  quality  and  color  of  the  hair. 

(5)  We  urge  as  a  farther  consideration— if,  indeed,  any 
farther  consideration  is  called  for — the  feeling  that  we  have 
on  recovering  from  deep  sleep,  or  a  troubled  dream,  or  a 


62  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

0 

partial  delirium,  of  an  effort  on  our  part  toward  self-control, 
self-possession ;  the  taking  up  anew  by  the  mind  of  its  vol- 
untary activity.  The  mind  returns  to  self-guidance  by  an 
exertion,  and  false  impressions  are  dispersed.  It  recognizes 
two  states,  a  normal  and  an  abnormal  one ;  that  in  which 
the  mind  controls  its  impressions,  and  that  in  which  the 
mind  is  controlled  by  them  ;  and  it  asserts  itself  in  behalf 
of  the  former.  A  kindred  experience  is  often  a  salient 
feature  of  incipient  insanity,  and  may,  when  a  firm  will 
accompanies  the  effort,  oppose  a  strong  barrier  to  its  pro- 
gress. 

(6)  For  the  very  reason  that  we  ascribe  delirium  to  the 
overpowering  effects  of  physical  causes  are  we  disposed  to 
refer  rational  action  to  the  control  of  the  mind.  If  insanity 
is  due  to  disease,  if  a  disordered  brain  brings  disordered 
imagery,  and  it  is  an  incident  of  this  state  that  physical 
conditions  control  mental  ones,  then  we  readily  believe  that 
a  healthy  brain  may  prepare  the  w^ay  for  the  reverse  action, 
and  yield  itself  as  an  obedient  instrument  to  the  spirit. 
Thus  cramps  and  convulsions  in  the  muscular  system  are 
due  to  the  escape  of  stimuli  from  the  control  of  the  will  and 
its  automatic  relations.  There  is  something  certainly  in 
the  coherence  of  the  two  kinds  of  facts  which  seems  to 
show  these  dependences.  Hallucinations  are  fixed,  obsti- 
nate ;  sane  impressions  are  flexible,  amenable  to  influence. 
We  seem  to  be  dealing  in  the  one  case  with  a  stubborn, 
physical  tendency  ;  and  in  the  other  with  a  changeable, 
moral  state.  In  delirium,  the  senses  cease  in  part  to  be  the 
media  of  facts ;  the  ways  of  ingress  to  the  mind,  like  those 
of  egress,  are  choked.  In  health,  the  movement  inward 
and  outward  is  alike  free  ;  the  brain  is  the  medium,  as  it 
should  be,  of  activity  starting  from  either  extremity. 

We  affirm,  therefore,  a  reciprocal  interdependence  of 
the  brain  and  the  mind,  with  a  normal  government  of  the 


THE  BRAIN  AND  THE  MIND.  63 

brain  by  the  mind.  Each  may  initiate  action,  but  in  all 
our  high,  characteristic  activities,  the  agent  is  the  mind  it- 
self. We  object  then  to  the  statement  given  below  from 
Spencer,  and  to  many  kindred  statements,  as  at  once  un- 
proved, improbable,  and  wholly  destructive  of  the  integrity 
of  mental  facts.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  the  human 
brain  ?  It  is  that  the  many  established  relations  among  its 
parts,  stand  for  so  many  established  relations  among  the 
psychical  changes.  Each  of  the  constant  connections 
among"  the  fibres  of  the  cerebral  masses,  answers  to  some 
constant  connection  of  phenomena  in  the  experience  of  the 
race." — Principles  of  Psychology,  Yol.  I.  jp.  468. 

The  relation  of  the  brain  to  the  mind  is  a  subject  un- 
dergoing close  inquiry  and  careful  experiment.     The  con- 
clusions already  reached  by  Ferrier  and  others  make  it  com- 
paratively certain,  that  the  structure  of  the  brain  and  ner- 
vous system  in  man  is  one  throughout  of  definite  relations, 
fitted  to  the  double  work  of  conveying  distinct  impressions 
inward  and  correspondingly  distinct  energies  outward.    In- 
deed, if  there  are  any  well  adjusted  connections  in  these 
channels  of  communication,  we  may  well  expect  them  to  be 
complete.    Their  value  and  fitness  must  evidently  depend  on 
this  continuity.     The  exact  cannot  pass  at  pleasure  into  the 
vague,  the  well  ordered  into  the  unordered,  and  retain  their 
value.      While   these   nervous    connections   are    relatively 
precise,  they  are  by  no  means  single,  similar  results  may 
be  reached  in  more  than  one  way.     We  may  figure  the 
cerebrum  as  offering  definite  termini  for  definite  impres- 
sions  from  the    exterior  world,  and   also  definite  starting 
points  for  reciprocal  energies.     Here  is  a  result  like,  and 
yet  very  unlike  the  statements  of   phrenology.     Tlie  ner- 
vous system,  has,  as  an  instrument,  fixed  relations  as  cer- 
tainly as  a  type-setting  machine,  or  an  organ,  though,  un- 
like these,  it  conveys  impressions  both  ways,  as  the  recep- 


61  THE  FIELD   OF  MEMTAL  SCIENCE. 

tive  and  active  powers  are  in  close  correspondence.  The 
definitness  of  tlie  nervous  dependencies  of  tlie  organs  of 
sense  carries  with  it  a  like  fixedness  in  the  means  of  exj^res- 
sion.  Tims  by  experiment  and  observation  the  conclusions 
have  been  reached,  that  '  the  third  left  frontal  convolution ' 
is  the  initiative  surface  for  intelligent  sj^eech ;  closely  con- 
nected therewith  are  the  starting  points  of  that  action 
wdiich  issues  in  writing.  The  parietal  region  or  crown  of 
the  head  constitutes  the  motor  region  of  the  brain,  and  may 
be  farther  subdivided  into  specific  forms  of  action,  as  grasp- 
ing, cleiiching  the  fist,  swimming.  The  temporal  lobes  are 
centres  of  sensory  perception,  both  passively  and  actively, 
and  are  divisable  with  some  certainty  between  the  several 
senses.  The  occipital  lobes  or  back  portion  of  the  head  are 
conjecturally  centres  to  organic  activity,  as  digestion.  The 
frontal  lobes  are  the  surfaces  for  the  initiation  of  intel- 
lectual and  moral  action ;  of  attention,  inhibition  and  direc- 
tion. It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  experiments  of  excita- 
tion in  any  portion  of  the  cerebrum  can  go  no  farther  than 
to  indicate  the  nervous  sources  of  those  movements  which 
express  certain  mental  states ;  the  conditions  of  the  state 
themselves  are  not  disclosed. 

It  does  not  follow,  therefore,  from  these  conclusions, 
that  pure  thought  and  the  communication  of  thought  are 
equally  dependent,  or  dependent  in  the  same  way,  on  the 
nervous  system.  All  that  the  experiments  of  Terrier, 
Fritsche,  Plitzig,  serve  to  establish  is  the  general  complete- 
ness of  the  mechanism  of  expression.  Indeed,  the  very 
connections  of  thought  in  thino^s  belonsrs  to  the  mind  ex- 
clusively  ;  even  when  a  verbal  sign  is  put  for  them,  the 
word  of  relation  is  no  more  than  a  sign.  We  may  well  be- 
lieve that  the  same  thin^:  is  true  of  that  more  subtile  Ian- 
guage  of  molecular  action  in  the  cerebrum. 

Guiding  or  at  least  steadying,  our  thought  by  the  im- 


TUE  BRAIN  AND  TUB  MIND. 


65 


age  of  an  organ  under  the  hand  of  a  musician,  it  is  suffi- 
ciently pLain,  for  reasons  ah-eady  given,  that  we  cannot  wisely 
affirm  this  organ  of  tlie  nervous  system  to  be  a  hand-organ, 
whose  tunes  are  pricked  into  its  revolving  barrels,  and  whose 
revolutions  take  place  mechanically  under  external  forces. 
ISTor  is  it  probable  that  the  tune— the  pure  thought  and  feel- 
ing—lies open,  like  the  music  above  the  key -board ;  that 
the  mind  reads  its  own  impressions  in  the  molecular  lan- 
guage of  the  cerebrum.  In  other  words,  it  is  not  probable 
that  thought  as  thought  has  any  other  than  an  instrumental, 
symbolic  expression  in  the  brain,  such  as  it  finds  on  a 
written  page,  or  in  spoken  words. 

The  proof  of  our  first  proposition,  that  activity  of  brain 
always  accompanies  activity  of  mind,  implies  a  close  rela- 
tion between  the  two.  What  is  that  relation  ?  The  brain 
on  the  one  hand,  is  the  recipient  of  definite  impressions 
from  the  exterior  world.  These,  offered  in  their  last  physi- 
cal form  as  molecular  charges,  are  not  by  the  mind  received 
in  that  form,  but  are  translated  into  states  of  consciousness. 
These  states  give  occasion  to  other  more  active  states, 
which,  with  a  similar  subtile  transfer,  are  accompanied  by 
molecular  changes,  the  agents  of  outgoing  action.  The 
word,  articulation^  offered  to  the  eye  or  sounded  in  the  ear, 
carries  a  distinct  change  to  the  brain,  which  becomes  to  the 
mind  the  occasion  of  an  idea.  On  the  other  hand,  the  mind 
having  occasion  through  the  presence  of  an  idea  to  write  or 
utter  that  word,  initiates  in  the  brain  in  a  fixed  way  the 
needed  action.  This  translation  in  either  direction  is  an 
ultimate  mystery,  both  of  whose  terms  even  the  mind  does 
not  directly  recognize.  Words  are  the  counters  of  thoughts, 
and  thought  can  not  proceed  far  without  them.  But  words 
are  sustained  in  the  mind  passively  or  actively  by  one  or 
other  of  these  molecular  occasions.  When  the  mind,  there- 
fore, is  thoughtful,  those  incipient  impressions,  which  are 


G6  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

the  first  terms  of  expression,  and  wliicli  are  the  physical 
symbols  of  words,  may  well  be  present  and  take  the  place 
in  their  supporting  power  of  written  or  spoken  language. 
Thus  the  musician  may  lightly  touch  the  keys  of  his  key- 
board, as  a  means  of  helping  onward  the  inventive  process. 
In  each  case  the  perception  of  the  mind  is  not  in  its  familiar 
symbols,  but  is  simply  sustained  by  them. 

Intense  thought  is  fatiguing,  because  it  involves  con- 
stant movement  among  the  physical  counters  of  the  mind, 
these  incipient  symbols  of  utterance  in  the  molecular  changes 
of  the  brain.  We  know  what  a  relief  it  is  to  substitute  the 
passive  for  the  active  symbol,  a  bit  of  paper  with  its  few 
figures,  for  the  vanishing  figures  of  a  problem  worked  out, 
as  we  say,  in  the  head.  The  fatigue  of  extemporary  speech 
is  very  great,  for  all  these  active  signs  of  thought  are  fully 
present,  and  completely  uttered,  with  even-paced  rapidity. 
Intense  thought  without  utterance  is  less  fatiguing,  because 
the  process  of  expression  is  abridged, — the  words  hastening 
by  us  with  large  representative  power — and  the  movement 
is  left  to  shape  itself  to  the  inner  impulse.  Mere  revery  is 
scarcely  fatiguing,  because  an  indolent  impulse  is  obeyed, 
both  in  direction  and  rapidity.  Our  inference  then  is  that 
the  brain,  as  the  medium  of  all  expression,  becomes,  in  its 
definite  molecular  changes,  a  sustaining  force  to  the  lan- 
guage of  the  mind ;  as  written  words,  through  another  set 
of  impressions,  more  passive,  are  an  occasion  of  an  appre- 
hension by  the  mind  of  another's  thought.  The  very 
essence  of  thought  therefore,  is  no  more  held  in  the  molecu- 
lar type  of  the  brain,  than  in  the  type  of  the  printed  page  ; 
indeed  hardly  so  much  so,  as  the  one  is  an  unrecognized, 
and  the  other  a  recognized,  condition  of  the  approj^riate 
thought.  In  each  case  it  is  the  presence  of  pure  spirit  that 
evokes  thought,  and  carries  it  forward ;  the  symbols, 
whether  those   of  receptivity   or   activity,  whether  those 


ABNORMAL  MENTAL  STATES.  67 

starting  with  the  outer  termini  of  the  nerves  and  passing 
in,  or  starting  with  tlie  inner  termini  and  passing  out,  act 
simply  as  supports  to  its  rapid  footsteps. 

§  10.  There  are  certain  abnormal  mental  states  that  de- 
serve a  passing  notice.  The  chief  physical  change  in  sleep 
is  a  large  reduction  of  blood  in  the  brain.  Its  external  fea- 
tures are  the  suppression  of  voluntary  action  and  of  the 
action  of  the  senses.  There  may  always  remain,  and  there 
certainly  often  remains,  the  play  of  the  imagination  known 
as  dreaming.  The  mental  action  seems  to  be  symj^athetic 
with  the  bodily  state,  and  to  be  attended  with  very  little 
control.  While  complete  sleep  involves  the  large  arrest  of 
voluntary  life  incident  to  muscular  repose,  there  are  many 
partial  forms  of  it.  The  senses  may  remain  cognizant  of 
very  many  events ;  a  slight  uneasiness  or  a  gentle  push  may 
call  forth  a  change  of  position.  Words  may  be  spoken  ;  or, 
more  rarely,  words  may  be  listened  to  and  answered,  if  in- 
troduced in  the  line  of  existing  impressions. 

In  somnambulism  these  states  of  partial  wakefulness 
assume  an  extreme  and  troublesome  form.  They  are 
characterized  by  an  unusual  acuteness  of  impression  in 
some  directions,  with  the  ordinary  want  of  it  in  other  di- 
rections. The  dividing  line  between  waking  and  sleeping, 
active  and  dormant,  powers  is  drawn  with  unusual  decision, 
and  in  a  new  direction.  Incident  to  this  is  also  a  new  rela- 
tion of  voluntary  to  involuntary  action,  the  latter  taking  up 
wdiat  usually  falls  to  the  former. 

H^^pnotism,  mesmeric  states,  table-tipping,  second-sight, 
and  kindred  facts,  are  phenomena  of  somewhat  the  same 
order.  They  involve  an  unusual  suspension  of  some  pow- 
ers, and  an  unusual  activity  of  others.  Kormal  associations 
in  the  action  of  faculties  are  broken  up,  and  abnormal 
ones  take  their  place.  They  are  induced  and  established 
by  unbalanced  tendencies,  by  inheritance,  by  habit.     Kev- 


C8  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

ery  presents  a  like  condition  in  a  very  moderate  degree. 
A  succession  of  images  is  vividly  present  to  the  mind, 
while  the  action  of  the  senses  and  of  the  will  is  suspended. 
The  degree  of  excitement  to  which  an  abnormal  state  may 
hring  a  faculty  or  a  sense  is  sometimes  illustrated  in  sick- 
ness. The  slightest  light  or  the  least  sound  may  be  in- 
tensely painful,  and  passing  events  may  impress  themselves 
in  quite  a  new  way  on  the  feelings.  The  nervous  system 
under  excitements  or  tension  takes  on  an  action  quite  novel 
to  it.  In  hypnotism  and  mesmerism  an  abnormal  state  of 
wakefulness  and  of  repose  is  induced  by  artificial  means, 
the  activity  of  certain  faculties  being  as  remarkable  as  the 
suspension  of  others.  In  the  mesmeric  state  the  patient — 
for  we  may  fitly  call  the  person  subject  to  such  disordered 
action  a  patient — becomes  inattentive  to  the  ordinary  con- 
ditions of  action,  and  highly  sensitive  to  those  which  pro- 
ceed from  the  person  inducing  the  state.  In  hypnotism 
there  is  a  like  suspension  of  habitual  sensations,  and  a  kin- 
dred attention  to  other  relations  determined  by  previous 
association.  We  may  ally  the  action  to  that  by  which  we 
listen  intently  without  seeing,  or  look  through  one  eye  to 
the  exclusion  of  objects  in  the  other.  The  states  implied 
in  hypnotism,  while  akin  to  these,  are  much  more  extreme, 
much  more  abnormal. 

In  these  and  kindred  conditions  unconscious  and  auto- 
matic connections  gain  ground  on  conscious  and  voluntary 
ones.  The  e3^e,  our  most  voluntary  sense,  is  least  attentive, 
while  touch,  or  rather  the  organic  stimuli  allied  to  it,  may 
be  very  active.  Persons  who  have  united  hands  thus  be- 
come the  unconscious  mediums  of  impressions  passing  from 
an  active  agent  at  one  extremity  to  a  passive  agent  at  the 
otlier ;  and  the  latter,  abnormally  sensitive,  marks  the 
slightest  change  in  the  former.  The  least  movement  ac- 
companying the  recognition  of  the  right  word  or  the  right 


ABNORMAL  STATES  69 

letter  on  the  part  of  the  active  agent,  is  transferred  to  the 
passive  agent,  and  he,  when  allowed  a  choice  of  actions, 
words,  or  letters,  reads  correctly  the  mind  of  the  former  by 
virtue  of  impulses  which  quite  escape  ordinary  observa- 
tion. 

In  table-tipping,  by  mechanical  tests,  pressure  is  shown 
to  be  present  when  the  parties  to  it  are  wholly  unaware  of 
it,  and  are  exercising  a  measure  of  volition  against  it.  In- 
voluntary states  triumph  over  voluntary  ones ;  confused,  sec- 
ondary and  unconscious  ones  over  clear  and  conscious  ones. 
In  the  planchette  we  have  a  visible  record  of  automatic 
impressions  escaping  from  the  control  of  the  voluntary  life. 
Those  who  are  the  most  coherent,  rational,  and  self-guided 
in  action  are  the  least  subject  to  these  abnormal  conditions, 
while  those  most  impressible,  excitable,  weakest  in  their 
voluntary  life,  are  especially  liable  to  them.  By  repetition 
these  states  gain  power  with  a  corresponding  loss  of  self- 
control.  Notwithstanding  the  exalted  susceptibility  im- 
plied in  them,  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  intellectually  and 
spiritually  unwholesome.  In  these  states,  the  automatic 
life,  the  life  of  obscure,  physical  impressions,  gains  ground 
on  the  reflective  life,  in  a  confused  and  confusing  way. 
(1)  There  is  a  new  and  abnormal  division  of  activities  be- 
tween the  two  ;  (2)  in  the  unconscious  life  there  is  intense 
activity  in  unusual  directions ;  (3)  in  the  conscious  life,  un- 
usual inertness  in  usual  directions. 

§  11.  We  dwell  at  length  on  consciousness  as  including 
the  entire  range  of  mental  phenomena,  because  thus  only 
can  we  adequately  define  the  field  of  mental  science,  and 
keep  it  forever  distinct  from  all  pliysical  inquiries.  Physi- 
ological facts  are  of  incalculable  interest  and  value,  but  are 
perfectly  distinct  from  philosophy.  Each  branch  is  capable 
of  independent  development,  nay  must  receive  it,  and 
neither  is  as  obscure  as  the  connections  between  the  two. 


70  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SGIENCM. 

* 

Only  by  a  double  light  on  either  hand,  the  mind  being 
made  known  to  itself,  and  the  brain  and  nervous  system 
being  carefully  inquired  into,  can  we  hope  to  trace  obscurely 
and  slowly  the  dependencies  of  the  physical  and  spiritual 
worlds ;  even  then  reaching  everywhere  ultimate  facts  be- 
yond our  solution.  Metaphysics,  with  all  its  erratic  and 
fanciful  reasonings,  never  gave  explanations  more  absurd 
and  inadequate  than  those  sometimes  rendered  of  intel- 
lectual phenomena  from  a  study  of  j^hysical  organisms. 
The  assertion  that  the  brain  secretes  thought,  is  the  crude 
idea  out  of  which,  with  more  subtile  and  obscure  phrase- 
ology, those  impotent  reasonings  from  matter  to  mind  arise. 

This  premature  and  preposterous  union  of  the  two 
realms,  or  rather  absorption  of  the  one  by  the  other,  is 
greatly  aided  by  the  admission  of  a  region  below  conscious- 
ness, a  region  in  some  w^ay  attached  to  the  mental  field, 
though  not  fairly  located  in  it.  The  mind  thus  allies  in 
conception  its  phenomena  to  those  of  the  physical  world, 
taking  place  under  a  blind  play  of  forces,  and  then  readily 
unites  them  to  nervous  and  cerebral  action.  Hypothetical, 
unlocated,  unknowable  facts  are  thus  made  to  furnish  a 
passage  between  the  two  departments  ;  to  give  inlet  to 
lower  physical  causes,  whose  service  it  ostensibly  is  to  ex- 
plain, but  which  really  obscure  and  destroy,  intellectual 
and  spiritual  powers. 

We  reject  this  region  of  subconsciousness  as  unexplored 
and  inexplorable,  either  by  the  inner  or  the  outer  eye ;  as 
furnishing  no  ground  for  induction  or  safe  deduction ;  as 
necessarily  a  region  of  myth  and  fancies,  offering  no  solid 
exj^lanations  which  can  be  subjected  to  any  form  of  experi- 
ence. Let  positive  science  give  us  its  positive  facts,  estab- 
lished with  sufficient  inquiiy,  located  in  the  brain  and  as- 
sociated or<ranisms — facts  as  material  and  sensible  as  those 
of  brass  or  iron,  oxygen  and  hydrogen,  heat  or  electricity. 


EXPERIENCE.  71 

and  as  physical  facts  we  will  recognize  them ;  let  philosophy 
declare  what  the  common  consciousness  can  verify,  and  its 
statements  shall  be  accepted  as  at  least  of  equal  value  and 
validity  with  those  which  creep  into  the  mind  through  the 
eye  and  the  ear ;  but  let  neither  form  of  investigation  bring 
alleged  facts  from  a  region  which  it  itself  puts  beyond  the 
entire  range  of  our  critical  faculties.  Consciousness  pre- 
sents a  distinct  and  independent  field.  On  it  no  purely 
physical  inquiry  can  enter,  and  in  it  philoso23hy  can  lie  in- 
trenched beyond  the  power  of  any  form  of  ignorant  or 
jealous  scepticism.  The  students  of  Positive  Philosophy, 
ready  to  desecrate  this  sanctuary  of  our  spiritual  nature, 
will,  like  the  blind  men  of  Sodom,  weary  themselves  in 
vain  to  find  the  door. 

Mental  science  will  also  be  aided,  by  this  divorce  of  the 
unknown  from  the  known,  the  conjectural  from  the  estab- 
lished, in  bringing  its  own  doctrines  to  a  more  decided 
test ;  and  in  expelling  some  of  those  dogmas,  which,  unin- 
telligible, yet  possible  to  a  bold  and  blind  faith,  have 
hovered  about  it,  and  given  it  a  superstitious,  visionary,  and 
unphilosophical  appearance.  Of  this  nature  is  the  asser- 
tion, that  one  may  sin  below  consciousness,  or  the  belief 
that  sin  is  transmitted  from  parent  to  child.  If  all  the  acts 
and  states  of  mind  are  conscious  ones,  then,  of  course,  all 
moral  phenomena  must  transpire  in  the  light. 

We  are  ready  to  accept  and  consider  any  well-established 
dependencies  between  mind  and  matter,  but  many  of  the 
theories  on  this  subject  transcend  by  almost  their  entire 
breadth  all  known  facts,  and  bring  no  light  to  what  they 
discuss.  We  are  now  prepared  to  receive  physical  phe- 
nomena as  expressed  in  physical  terms  ;  mental  phenomena 
as  stated  in  mental  Jterms ;  and  any  relations  that  can  be  es- 
tablished between  the  two.  Our  philosophy  is  thus  on  the 
ground  of  experience.     Data  of  which  our  experience  takes 


72  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

no  cognizance,  states  of  mind  beyond  consciousness,  states 
of  matter  that  are  in  effect  intellectual,  intelligence  out- 
side the  range  of  mind,  are  all  swept  away.  We  get  back 
to  our  primitive  phenomena,  and  satisfy  ourselves  with  striv- 
ing to  analyze  and  classify  them,  and  to  point  out  their 
character  and  dependencies. 

This  is  the  true,  and  the  only  true  attitude  of  a  truly 
empirical  philosophy.  Words  can  never  be  more  clear 
than  the  very  phenomena  which  they  designate.  Words  of 
mind,  therefore,  should  be  constantly  and  exclusively  ex- 
pounded :  by  phenomena  of  mind,  and,  words  of  matter 
by  the  phenomena  of  matter.  Having  duly  grasped  and 
grouped  each  set  of  facts  under  their  own  forms,  we  are 
prepared  to  discuss  inductively  and  deductively  any  relations 
between  them.  To  systematically  set  ourselves  the  task  of 
expressing  the  facts  of  mind  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion 
is  to  institute  an  effort,  patient  and  skilful  it  may  be,  to 
subvert  the  facts  of  mind.  Physical  philosophy  erred  in 
the  beginning  by  using  wordg  of  mind  to  expound  physical 
facts,  mental  philosophy  now  errs  by  substitating  pliysical 
words  and  imagery  for  mental  facts,  presented  in  conscious- 
ness.    This  is  the  logomachy  of  our  day. 

§  12.  The  second  preliminary  inquiry  referred  to — Is 
the  mind  always  consciously  active  ? — is  closely  allied  to 
the  one  now  answered — Is  the  mind  ever  unconsciously 
modified  1  A  negative  answer  to  the  second  inquiry  would 
seem  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  positive  answer  to  the  fii*st. 
If  no  phenomena  of  mind  transpire  below  the  surface,  then 
we  should  anticipate  that  the  continuous  existence  of  tlie 
mind  would  be  productive  of  continuous  activity  above  the 
surface,  and  that  some  phase  of  thought,  feeling,  or  volition 
would  be  ever  transpiring.  The  second  (piestion  of  course 
contemplates  a  modification  of  mind  in  the  nature  of  an 
action,  or  an  induced   change  of  state,  and  not  at  all  the 


CONSTANT  ACTIVITY  OF  MIND.  73 

admitted  fact  that  the  mind  increases  in  power.  The  sub- 
jectiv^e  method  of  this  increase  is  beyond  present  explica- 
tion ;  we  are  simply  not  to  figure  it  under  a  material  form, 
as  if  it  were  a  substantial  change.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  say  with  Sir  William  Hamilton,  that  there  are  uncon- 
scious modifications  of  mind,  we  have  prepared  the  way  for 
denying  its  constant,  conscious  activity;  since  some  mo- 
ments of  being,  at  least,  would  seem  to  be  sufficiently  ac- 
counted for  by  the  occurrence  of  these  subconscious  facts, 
and  the  existence  of  such  facts  would  prepare  the  way  for 
their  hypothetical  occupation  of  the  mind  in  periods  of  ex- 
ternal repose.  Yet,  Sir  William  Hamilton  answers  this 
question,  justly  we  believe,  in  the  affirmative.  The  mind 
is  always  consciously  active. 

The  reason  wliich  most  avails  in  brino^ino^  us  to  this  con- 
elusion  is  one  which  w^ll  probably  have  little  weight  Avith 
most   minds.     It  is  of  an  a  priori  character.     The  only 
proof  of  existence  is  some  form  of  phenomena.     Existence 
without  phenomena  is  unevinced  and  unintelligible.     Mat- 
ter that  should  manifest  neither  active  nor  passive  effects 
anyw^here,  under  any  conditions,  would  cease  to  meet  our 
idea  of  matter,  would  be  non-existent.    JSTow  the  sole  known 
phenomena  of  mind  are  those  of  consciousness ;  and  to  sup- 
pose a  total  arrest  of  these  leaves  the  mind,  for  the  interval, 
without  the  proof  or  the  form  of  existence.    We  may  figure, 
in  some  vague  way,  under  the  analogy  of  matter,  some  pas- 
sive state  or  power  as  belonging  to  the  mind  and  maintain- 
ing for  it  a  phenomenal  existence  during  the  hours  of  sleep  ; 
but  here  again  we  are  in  the  region  of  pure  hypothesis.    We 
know  nothing  of  mind  save  as  the  source  of  certain  activi- 
ties, and  if  these  are  gone,  the  only  grounds  on  which  we 
ever  predicated  its  existence  are  gone.     To  suppose  it  capa- 
ble of  existence  in  a  passive  state,  is  a  supposition  alto- 
gether beyond  knowledge,  and  made  tenable  only  by  analo- 


74-  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

gies  carelessly  canglit  np  from  the  physical  world.  We 
believe,  therefore,  in  the  constant  activity  of  the  mind,  as  the 
only  state  under  which  we  know  it  at  all,  or  in  consistency 
with  what  we  do  know  of  its  nature,  can  at  all  conceive  it. 
The  notion  of  total  rest  leaves  the  mind  as  mind  without 
any  possible  manifestation  or  proof  of  existence  to  any 
being  under  any  circumstances.  The  only  known  phenom- 
ena of  mind  are  removed,  and  with  them  pass  away  the 
evidence  of  its  present  being. 

Urging,  however,  no  farther  this  consideration,  we  be- 
lieve tlxe  strictly  inductive  proof  sufficient  to  render  the 
conclusion,  that  the  mind  is  always  active,  at  least  probable. 
As  it  is  dwelt  on  at  length  by  Hamilton,  we  shall  treat  it 
briefly.  The  chief  difficulty  to  be  overcome  in  the  affirma- 
tion, is  the  admitted  fact,  that  the  memory  does  not  retain 
and  report  the  movements  of  the  mind  in  hours  of  sleep  or  of 
syncope.  How  strong  is  this  objection  ?  Much  the  larger 
share  of  the  thoughts  and  the  feelings  of  yesterday  have  en- 
tirely passed  from  the  mind,  and  yet  we  readily  believe  in 
their  existence.  We  have  no  doubt  of  the  continuity  of 
thought  in  our  waking  moments ;  yet  we  arrive  at  the  con- 
clusion more  from  our  present  experience  than  because  we 
can  recall  one  in  ten  thousand  of  the  feelings  which  have 
passed  through  the  mind  in  the  last  dozen  years.  Now  the 
impressions  of  dreams,  when  these  are  known  to  have  oc- 
curred, are  of  a  much  more  evanescent  character.  At  the 
very  instant  of  waking  we  may  be  able  to  recall  them,  and 
yet  we  lose  all  hold  on  them  in  a  few  moments.  We  also 
know  that  in  proportion  as  sleep  is  sweet  and  sound  these 
impressions  of  the  night  are  fleeting,  and  must  be  caught 
almost  in  tlie  very  act  of  passage,  or  tliey  are  wliolly  lost. 
It  has  happened  to  many,  perhaps  to  most,  to  awake  in  a 
dream,  and  to  take  delight  in  tlie  images  left  by  it,  and 
yet  after  another  hour's  sleep  to  be  unable  to  restore  them. 


CONSTANT  ACTIVITY  OF  MIND.  75 

The  memory  also  seems  to  be  especially  affected  by  phys- 
ical conditions.  Fatigue  and  nervous  exhaustion  for  the 
time  being  greatly  diminish  its  power ;  some  forms  of  dis- 
ease erase  its  impressions  in  whole  or  in  part,  while  the 
weakness  of  age  first  betrays  itself  in  this  faculty.  Since, 
then,  physical  conditions  so  obviously  and  directly  modify 
this  power,  it  is  but  natural  to  expect  that  so  great  a  change 
as  that  from  wakeful  activity  to  sleep  might  decidedly  affect 
its  action.  The  thoughts  which  pass  through  the  mind  in 
revery  or  abstraction  often  leave  very  slight  traces.  Sud- 
denly startled  from  such  a  waking  dream  by  a  practical 
claim,  wc  can  scarcely,  the  moment  after,  recall  what  it  was 
which  so  occupied  us.  These  facts  are  sufficient  to  over- 
come the  antecedent  improbability  of  continuous  mental 
action,  arising  from  the  w^ant  of  memory,  and  to  leave  the 
way  open  for  proof. 

The  most  obvious  facts  wdiich  go  to  establish  the  con- 
stant activity  of  mind  are  dreams.  The  memory  does  tes- 
tify to  a  large  amount  of  movement  in  hours  of  sleep  not 
to  be  distinguished  by  external  signs  from  other  periods  of 
repose.  Some  habitually  dream :  that  is,  the  play  of  imagery, 
the  dumb  show  in  the  hours  of  darkness,  the  spectral  troop 
of  the  sportive  thoughts  pass  and  repass  within  the  scope  of 
mental  vision,  and  the  person,  on  waking,  remains  mindful 
of  this  fleet,  flitting  assemblage — of  this  masquerade  of 
his  thoughts  escaping  the  control  of  the  senses  aud  the  vol- 
untary life.  Now,  though  others  rarely  dream,  that  is, 
rarely  recall  these  shadows  of  the  mind,  leaving  no  more 
visible  traces  on  the  external  life  than  do  the  clouds  that  fly 
through  the  heavens  on  the  earth  which  they  darken  for 
the  moment,  this  fact  goes  but  a  little  way  to  weaken  the 
presumption,  that  they  are  not  very  different  from  their 
fellows  ;  that  the  rehearsal  of  dreams  is  only  a  little  more 
interior  and  close-locked  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 


76  THE  FIELD  OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

This  supposition  is  strengtliened  by  tlie  fact,  that  the  habit 
of  recalling  and  relating  dreams  is  said  to  confirm  the  ten- 
dency to  them,  and  to  deepen  their  impressions.  It  is  not 
probable  that  one  dreams  more  as  the  result  of  reciting 
dreams,  but  rather  that  the  deepened  attention  strengthens 
the  memory  of  dreams. 

The  nature  also  of  dreams  is  a  proof  of  their  continuous 
presence.  There  is  shown  in  them  a  certain  freedom,  yet 
also  a  certain  weakness,  of  the  mind  not  found  in  the  wak- 
ing moments.  The  intellectual  powers  are  plainly  divorced 
from  the  usual  restraint  and  guidance  of  the  senses  and 
the  voluntary  activities.  Nothing  seems  monstrous,  that 
is  unnatural.  The  most  incongruous  events  are  accepted 
with  perfect  composure.  The  laws  of  nature  are  largely 
set  aside,  and  the  mind  binds  together,  wdth  its  own  fanciful 
connections  in  its  own  fanciful  creations,  the  events  that 
arise  before  it.  The  inner  wheels  are  ungeared  from  the 
outer  w^orld,  and  revolve  in  their  own  rapid  and  irregular 
way.  This  fact  goes  to  show  that  the  senses  are  in  full  re- 
pose, while  the  mind  retains  this  wild,  free,  sportive,  un- 
tiring activity. 

In  dreams,  also,  the  will,  through  the  repose  of  its  physi- 
cal instruments,  seems  utterly  powerless.  Flight,  however 
urgent  the  apparent  necessity,  is  impossible.  Ko  personal 
exigency  is  met  with  physical  prowess  and  strength.  This 
seems  to  arise  from  the  fact  that  the  will  finds  itself 
thwarted  by  the  inert,  sleeping  body,  and  not  inducing  its 
wonted  effects  in  this  torpid  mass,  throws  back  on  the 
mind  fear,  faintness,  and  a  sense  of  hopeless  failure.  Some- 
times, indeed,  the  effort  it  puts  forth  is  so  great  as  to  run, 
like  an  electric  shock,  through  the  muscles,  and  the  awak- 
ened body  is  landed  at  a  leap,  startled  and  astonished, 
on  the  floor  of  the  chamber.  These  facts  all  indicate  that 
physical  repose  is  accompanied  with  mental  activity,  and 


MIND  ALWAYS  ACTIVE,  ,  K.         ^T/ 

not    simply  that  sleep  is  partial  and   disturbejjy  ^  SucLT -^  a 

■        I  •  T  n         _  J3^ i.~       Xl,  ^       ^1-.  «  i^r.  iri+ /-WW      /-\-p      /IlTiOTVlC!        O  Tl  H     frl  fl^OT^OT*  O  •/ 


state,  indeed,  affects  the  character  of  dreams,  anS  rd^pens      ^ 
their  impression,  and  thus  aids  us  in  recalling  them^^n^        V. 
does  not  seem  to  be  their  cause.  -7, 

A  third  fact  looking  to  the  same  conclusion  is  the  " 
familiar  one  of  talking  in  sleep,  though  the  person  on  wak- 
ing retains  none  of  the  impressions  which  occupied  the 
mind.  In  such  cases,  mental  activity  is  fairly  shown  to 
exist  without  corresponding  recollection.  The  dog  even 
will  bark  in  his  sleep,  tickling  the  motor  nerves  with  some 
tantalizing  image  of  cat  or  rabbit. 

Allied  to  this  is  the  fourth  general  proof  furnished  by 
somnambulism  in  all  its  forms.  In  these  cases,  the  mind 
acquires  a  partial  control  of  the  body,  and,  while  leaving 
the  senses  chiefly  at  rest,  guides  and  stimulates  its  mus- 
cular powers.  The  wonderful  precision  and  daring  with 
which  this  is  sometimes  done  evince  great  calmness  and 
activity  of  the  faculties,  enabling  them  to  reach  results  im- 
possible to  the  frightened,  swimming  senses.  Of  this  char- 
acter are  those  familiar  instances  in  which  the  somnambu- 
list passes  through  positions  of  great  peril  without  failure 
or  disturbance.  A  student  in  my  own  college  class  had 
been  greatly  interested  and  perplexed  by  a  difficult  prob- 
lem. He  could  not  liit  upon  its  solution.  He  retired  to 
rest,  and,  in  the  night,  rose  in  his  sleep,  and  wrought  it  out 
on  the  board  in  the  room.  There,  to  his  astonishment,  he 
found  it  in  the  morning,  the  whole  labor  having  left  not 
the  slightest  trace  in  the  memory. 

A  fifth  fact  looking  in  the  same  direction,  is  that  tes- 
tified to  by  Sir  William  Hamilton,  and  open  to  anyone's 
verification :  "  I  have  always  observed  that  when  suddenly 
awakened  during  sleep  (and,  to  ascertain  the  fact,  I  liave 
caused  myself  to  be  roused  at  different  seasons  of  the 
night),  I  have  always  been  able  to  observe  that  I  was  in 


78  THE  FIELD   OF  MENTAL  SCIENCE. 

the  middle  of  a  dream.  The  recollection  of  this  dream 
was  not  always  equally  vivid.  On  some  occasions,  I  was 
able  to  trace  it  back  until  the  train  was  lost  at  a  remote 
distance ;  on  others  I  was  hardly  aware  of  more  than  one 
or  two  of  the  latter  links  of  the  chain;  and  sometimes 
was  scarcely  certain  of  more  than  the  fact,  that  I  was  not 
awakened  from  an  unconscious  state." 

One  more  fact  remains  of  very  general  prevalence  con- 
firmatory of  those  now  given.  The  mind  is  found  to  ex- 
ercise a  certain  measure  of  watchfulness  over  the  body  in 
hours  of  sleep.  We  sleep,  as  popular  speech  has  it,  with 
one  eye  open.  Anything  unusual,  though  slight  in  char- 
acter, arouses  us,  while  familiar  sounds  pass  unheeded. 
There  is  evidently  a  sentinel  posted,  who  reports  at  once 
anything  alarming,  while  he  suffers  ordinary  events  to  pass 
unchallenged.  We  see  something  of  this  even  in  the  tor- 
por of  intoxication.  The  mind  makes  an  unsuccessful  ef- 
fort to  arouse  the  body  on  the  approach  of  danger,  and,  if 
the  danger  is  extreme,  sometimes  sobers  the  man  at  once. 
We  assign  the  mind  a  specific  duty.  We  lay  upon  it  as 
a  task,  that  it  shall  awaken  the  body  at  a  given  moment. 
The  mind  is  frequently  disturbed  and  made  nervous  by 
the  imposition,  and  arouses  the  vexed  body  in  a  tentative 
way  half  a  dozen  times  before  the  hour  arrives  ;  or,  better 
trained  and  more  familiar  with  its  service,  it  leaves  the  re- 
pose unbroken  till  the  moment  has  fully  come. 

These  and  kindred  facts  of  observation  seem  sufficiently 
to  establish  the  constant  activity  of  the  mind,  and  to  render 
it  certain,  that  this  invisible  agent  of  invisible  phenomena 
has  a  continuous  and  manifested  existence,  whatever  the 
condition  of  its  factor,  the  body,  may  be. 


OHAPTEK  II. 

The  Intellect — Its  Divisions — Perception. 

§  1.  The  first  great  class  of  mental  faculties  are  those 
of  the  intellect.  When  we  speak  of  faculties,  we  mean 
the  different  ways  in  which  the  one  individual  mind  acts, 
rather  than  a  combination  of  distinct  powers  under  the 
analogy  of  our  physical  organs.  The  forms  of  knowing  are 
treated  first,  not  because  they  necessarily  arise  first — feel- 
ing doubtless  precedes  them,  and  chiefly  occupies  conscious- 
ness in  the  first  months  of  life — but  because,  in  the  activity 
of  mind,  they  prepare  the  way  for  emotion  and  choice,  and 
chiefly  determine  their  form.  The  knowing  are  the  recep- 
tive processes,  and  give  material  to  the  feelings  and  alterna- 
tives to  choice. 

The  intellectual  powers  have  been  divided  into  three 
principal  classes ;  the  sense,  the  understanding,  and  the 
reason.  The  first  furnishes  the  direct  facts,  the  forms  of 
existence  which  the  mind  contemplates,  whether  of  the 
outer  or  inner  world.  The  second  carries  on  and  sustains 
the  processes  of  reflection  concerning  these,  elaborating 
them  into  knowledge.  The  third  furnishes  those  necessary 
ideas  under  which  only  the  movements  of  a  rational  mind 
can  go  on.  We  shall  not  j)ause  to  speak  of  these  divisions, 
as  all  that  we  have  to  say  under  each  of  them  is  requisite 
for  their  perfect  comprehension.  We  proceed  to  treat  of 
the  first  of  these  classes,  that  of  sense. 

This  term  is  somewhat  awkward,  but  as  it  has  already 
been  used  in  this  connection,  we  avoid,  by  its  retention,  one 


80  INTELLECT. 

great  evil  of  metaphysics,  a  perpetually  shifting  nomencla- 
ture. The  sense  includes  two,  and  quite  diverse  sources 
of  knowledge  ;  the  power  of  perception  and  the  immediate 
cognizance  which  the  mind  has  of  its  own  states.  Under 
an  image,  but  very  partially  applicable,  they  may  be  spoken 
of  as  the  outer  and  inner  eye  of  the  intellect. 

§  2.  In  perception  we  shall  not,  as  is  usually  done,  in- 
clude all  the  senses.  A  j^oi'tion  of  these  seem  primarily 
avenues  of  feelings  rather  than  of  percepts.  When  the 
sensation  is  manifest,  lying  in  the  organ,  and  contemplated 
there  as  an  occasion  of  pleasure  or  displeasure,  the  sense  is 
evidently  one  of  feeling  rather  than  of  knowing.  Though 
we  may  make  the  peculiar  character  of  the  odor  or  of  the 
taste  a  ground  of  inference  as  to  its  source,  and  thus  of 
knowledge,  this  fact  does  not  destroy  its  primary  connection 
with  the  feelings.  ]^or  is  the  fact  that  an  odor,  a  flavor 
are,  as  it  were,  a  form  of  knowing,  a  knowing  that  cannot 
be  otherwise  arrived  at,  a  ground  of  classifying  these  sen- 
sations with  the  intellectual  faculties ;  since  the  same  is 
true  of  love,  sympathy,  anger.  The  perplexity  arises,  as 
has  been  already  intimated,  from  the  fact  that  every  feel- 
ing involves  consciousness,  and  to  know  a  thing  and  to 
be  conscious  of  a  thing  are  constantly  used  as  interchange- 
able expressions.  As  consciousness  belongs  necessarily  to 
thought,  feeling  and  volition,  it  is  not  in  this  common  con- 
dition of  their  existence  that  their  differences  are  to  be 
looked  for ;  but  in  the  nature  of  that  existence,  conscious- 
ness being  conceded.  All,  then,  that  abides  in  the  organ  as 
a  distinct,  local  sensation,  an  incipient,  or  a  positive  pain  or 
pleasure,  is  a  matter  of  feeling  ratlier  than  of  perception, 
and  should  be  classified  as  a  portion  of  our  emotional  na- 
ture. With  this  distinction  in  view,  we  have  but  two  un- 
mistakable organs  of  perception,  the  eye  and  the  ear.  Even 
these,  under  certain  conditions,  may  give  rise  to  sensations. 


PERCEPTION.  81 

The  light  may  become  so  bright  as  to  be  painful ;  the 
sound  so  loud  or  so  sharp  as  to  be  disagreeable,  that  is  or- 
ganically disagreeable,  and  thus  these  senses  serve  for  the 
time  as  avenues  to  feelings  rather  than  to  percejDtions.  The 
pleasures  that  enter  the  eye  and  ear  in  painting,  sculpture, 
music,  not  being  organic  but  mental,  do  not  interfere  with 
the  purely  perceptive  action  of  the  senses. 

In  perception,  material  of  knowledge,  or  of  subjective 
emotions  simply,  is,  through  the  medium  of  the  organ  of 
sense,  brought  to  the  mind.  It  is  only  by  observation  that 
we  know  that  the  eye  is  the  means  of  sight,  or  the  ear  of 
hearing.  Neither  of  these  organs,  in  their  healthy  state, 
give  any  direct  indication  of  their  office,  or  excite  us  by 
any  passing  sensation  in  the  performance  of  it.  To  this 
fact  our  language  conforms,  and  we  speak  of  perception,  an 
acting  of  the  mind,  through,  rather  than  in,  the  organ  em- 
ployed. 

The  sense  of  touch  seems  more  mixed  than  any  of  the 
others.  It  declares  its  locality,  and  lodges  its  results  as  dis- 
tinct feelings  in  the  finger-ends.  Its  sensation  should, 
therefore,  be  primarily  ranked  with  the  feelings,  and  it  be 
regarded  as  an  organ  of  feeling.  Indeed,  this  conclusion 
language  seems  unmistakably  to  indicate,  and  in  designa- 
tion we  have  passed  over  with  the  same  word  feeling,  from 
the  external  sense  to  the  internal  emotion.  Touch,  how- 
ever, approaches  the  two  higher  senses,  in  the  fact  that  its 
sensations  are  made  almost  exclusively  the  ground  of  infer- 
ences rather  than  of  enjoyments,  and  w4ien  highly  devel- 
oped are  clear  and  ultimate  in  the  information  imparted, 
and  almost  wholly  overlooked  as  forms  of  feeling.  The 
blind  doubtless  cease  almost  entirely  to  contemplate  the 
agreeable  and  disagreeable  in  touch — indeed  the  tactual 
character  of  these  sensations — and  find  in  them  a  direct,  un- 
conscious medium  of  knowing.     Under  such  circumstances, 


82  INTELLECT. 

the  sense  is  one  of  perception  rather  than  sensation.  A 
difference  between  sensation  and  perception  is  found  in  the 
direction  of  the  lines  of  activity;  in  sensation  it  is  inward, 
in  perception  it  is  outward.  Sensations  are  converted  into 
perceptions  by  making  their  data  a  subject  of  analysis  and 
of  inference.  As  the  reflective  element  gains  ground,  the 
feeling  is  obscured,  and  the  particular  sense  becomes  the 
inlet  of  knowledge.  Perceptions  then  are  sensations  trans- 
formed into  terms  of  knowledge  by  the  mind  that  lies  back 
of  them.  Hamilton's  statement,  that  perception  is  inversely 
as  the  sensation,  if  not  mathematically  true,  is  proximately 
correct. 

§  3.  Taking  the  eye  as  the  type  of  the  intellectual 
senses,  we  ask.  What  do  we  see  ?  Most  multiform  and  per- 
plexed have  been  the  answers  to  this  question,  and  most 
fatal,  and,  to  the  common  understanding,  preposterous  have 
been  the  conclusions  drawn  from  them.  It  is  no  part  of 
our  purpose  to  dwell  on  these  either  by  exposition  or  refu- 
tation ;  but  rather  to  state  what  we  regard  as  the  just  view, 
and  with  passing  indications  of  its  bearings  to  leave  this  to 
displace  them.  The  nature  of  this  view,  and  therefore  its 
grounds,  are  so  much  involved  in  our  idea  of  the  intuitive 
action  of  the  mind  as  to  turn  upon  this  fundamental  fea- 
ture of  philosophy.  The  full  reasons  of  our  conclusions 
cannot  therefore  at  once  be  spread  out,  but  will  be  slowly 
made  up  as  we  present  the  entire  furniture  and  action  of 
the  mind.  The  separate  parts  of  our  structure  can  show 
neither  their  strength  nor  fitness  till  the  survey  of  the 
whole  is  finished. 

In  tlie  first  place,  the  eye  as  an  organ  of  perception 
deals  w^ith  color,  the  ear  w4th  sound.  The  sources  of  these 
colors  and  sounds  are  known  only  inferentially.  It  is  a 
necessary  belief,  arising  under  the  notion  of  causation,  that 
these  organs  can  become  means  of  cognition  only  through 


PERCEPTION.  83 

effects  wliicli  have  been  wrouglit  in  themselves,  and  that 
unaffected  they  can  be  the  medium  of  no  knowledge. 
Effects  not  only  demand  causes,  but  causes  efficiently  pres- 
ent in  them,  interpenetrating  them.  The  last,  the  imme- 
diate cause  is  inseparable  from  the  effect.  Now  the  vibra- 
tions of  light  and  sound  are  tlie  agents  and  the  only  agents 
that  reach  these  organs,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  experience 
that  perception  is  immediately  dependent  on  these  agents 
as  they  penetrate  into  and  work  their  changes  on  the  organs 
of  sense.  Each  organ  is  obviously  fitted  for  the  action  of 
its  own  agent,  and  every  interference  with  these  internal 
adjustments  destroys  perception  wholly  or  in  part.  While, 
therefore,  our  necessary  beliefs  demand  an  immediate  effect 
on  the  organ  of  perception,  experience  clearly  points  out 
the  agents  of  this  effect,  and  the  contrivance  by  which  it 
is  wrought. 

The  purely  intellectual  character  of  sight,  the  extent  to 
which  the  eye  is  an  unconscious,  translucent  medium  of  the 
mind,  is  shown  by  the  number,  delicacy,  variety,  and  fur- 
tive character  of  the  judgments  inextricably  involved  in 
vision.  The  earlier  years  of  life  are  evidently  busily  em- 
ployed in  learning  to  see,  not  in  the  scientific  but  in  the 
familiar  use  of  the  word.  These  facts  harmonize  with  the 
further  recorded  fact,  that  the  eyes  of  one  couched  in 
mature  life,  seemed  to  report  all  objects  under  the  analogy 
of  touch ;  that  is,  as  directly  in  contact  with  the  organ  of 
vision."  These  spaces,  greater  and  less,  which  the  educated 
eye  now  reveals ;  this  opening  up  and  spreading  out  of  the 
universe  before  it,  this  unsearchable  depth,  this  height,  this 

*  The  case  referred  to  is  that  described  by  Voltaire.  The  operation 
was  performed  by  Cheselden  on  a  lad  who  had  been  born  blind.  "  It 
was  long  before  the  patient  could  distinguish  objects  by  size,  distance 
or  shape.  Several  other  like  cases  have  been  reported." — See  Diderot, 
by  John  Morley,  p.  54. 


StI:  INTELLECT. 

breadth,  are  not  the  products  of  direct  vision,  but  of  vision 
modified  by  innumerable  judgments,  and  mingled  with 
them.  The  most  of  them  we  form  unconsciously,  and 
learned  to  make  early  in  life,  their  accuracy  and  ease  being 
increased  by  every  day's  experience.  How  many  things 
come  in  to  determine  our  estimates  of  the  distances  of  sur- 
rounding objects,  the  clearness  or  faintness  of  colors,  the 
depth  of  blue  cast  upon  them  by  the  atmosphere,  their 
apparent  size,  intervening  objects  and  the  muscular  ad- 
justment of  the  eyes  in  their  perception.  Most  have  prob- 
ably experienced  in  some  moment  of  relative  abstraction, 
an  exaggerated  or  false  impression  made  by  some  object  or 
objects  seen,  but  not  observed,  and  marked  the  instantane- 
ousness  with  which  these  flashed  into  their  true  form  upon 
the  first  distinct  direction  of  the  eye  toward  them.  The 
relative  position  and  size  of  objects  are  also  almost  wholly 
a  matter  of  judgment;  the  eye  itself  only  records  their 
angular  separation.  It  reduces  them  to  a  map-surface,  and 
leaves  their  relations  and  distances  unrecorded.  Angles, 
not  lines,  are  contemplated  by  it.  The  distances  outward 
from  the  eye,  and  hence  laterally  also,  are  wholly  a  matter 
of  experience. 

To  these  judgments  are  to  be  added  those  which  turn 
on  light  and  shade,  and  from  these  data  arrive  at  the  most 
complex  surfaces.  We  thus  see  that  the  pure  visual  data 
of  sight  are  very  meagre,  and  bear  no  more  resemblance 
and  intimate  connection  to  the  world  in  which  we  live  than 
do  the  canvas  and  the  paints  thereon,  as  canvas  and  paints 
merely,  to  the  landscape  represented.  This  saturation  of  a 
sense  by  the  understanding,  this  inflation  of  a  single  drop 
by  the  breath  of  rational  thought  into  a  brilliant  sphere, 
and  the  acquired  ability  to  do  this  as  child's  play,  are  the 
noticeable  features  of  this,  our  highest  organ  of  perception, 
quite  distinguishing  it  from  such  an  organ  as  that  of  taste, 


PERCEPTION.  85 

from  wliich  with  smack,  pause  and  reiteration,  we  reach  one 
or  two  uncertain  conchisions. 

The  ear  is  akin  to  the  eye,  though  considerably  below  it, 
in  the  number  of  judgments  its  habitual  use  involves.  The 
direction,  distance  and  source  of  sounds  are  23lainly  learned 
by  experience ;  though  in  most  cases  we  hardly  separate  the 
mere  phenomenal  fact  from  the  judgments  on  which  our 
knowledge  depends.  To  these  are  to  be  added  all  the 
variety  of  feelings  expressed  by  intonation,  and  also  that 
representative  power  of  articulate  sounds  instituted  in 
language  yet  through  familiarity  employed  and  interpreted 
without  thought.  Here  again  the  under-play  of  the  un- 
derstanding is  very  great,  exploding  a  single  ictus  of  sound, 
like  a  thimble  of  powder,  into  a  death-warrant,  or  open- 
ing the  gates  of  blessedness  by  the  key  of  a  monosyllabic 
assent.  Thus  does  the  mind  work  up  the  crude  material, 
the  physical  nutrition  of  an  organic  susceptibility  into 
the  daily  food  and  the  special  feasts  of  the  soul. 

The  point  of  most  philosophical  interest  in  these  senses 
is  the  ajDproach  we  make  to  a  more  exact  answer  to  the  in- 
quiry :  AVhat  do  we  perceive  ?  Is  it  something  external  to 
the  organ  ?  or  is  it  something  subjective  to  it  ?  or  is  it  sub- 
jective to  the  mind  itself  ?  If,  in  the  word  perception,  we 
include  all  the  mind's  action  therein,  its  direct  and  its  infer- 
ential knowing,  then  plainly  we  perceive  something  exter- 
nal to  the  eye  and  to  the  mind.  If,  however,  by  perception, 
we  mean  only  the  arriving  at  those  simple  intuitive  data 
around  wliich  these  judgments  cluster,  and  which  they  con- 
struct into  the  well-ordered  and  complete  vision  of  mature 
life,  then  the  mind  perceives  that  only  which  is  subjective 
to  itself,  and  knows  directlv  no  more  about  the  intermediate 
organ  it  uses  than  it  does  of  the  external  object  which  is  the 
joint,  final  product  of  its  perceptive  and  reflective  powers. 
The  first  spontaneous  answer  of  philosophy  has  been,  the 


86  INTELLECT. 

direct  perceptive  action  of  tlie  mind  is  confined  to  the  cir- 
cle of  its  own  activity,  to  consciousness;  and  probably  no 
other  answer  would  have  been  souglit  for,  had  not  the  con- 
clusions drawn  from  this  earlier  statement  led  to  a  recon- 
sideration of  it.  These  conclusions  have  been  idealism,  and 
have  compelled  those  who  have  wished  to  establish  the  in- 
dependent existence  of  the  external  world,  and  have  had 
no  other  means  at  hand  to  do  it,  to  re-analyze  perception, 
and  find  therein  a  valid  objective  element.  Overlooking 
the  inferences  of  the  mind,  they  have  given  it  a  direct 
knowledge  of  matter. 

The  proof  of  idealism  runs  thus  :  1.  "  We  cannot  know 
things  in  themselves  ;  all  knowledge  is  subjective ;  it  is 
confined  to  unseen  states  and  changes. 

2.  "If  this  is  so,  then  still  more  is  w^hat  we  name  the 
objective,  only  a  state  or  change  of  us  as  subjective,  it  is  a 
mere  fiction  of  the  mind  so  far  as  it  is  regarded  as  a  beyond, 
or  a  thing  in  itself. 

3.  "  Hence  we  do  know  the  objective ;  for  the  skepti- 
cism can  only  legitimately  conclude  that  the  objective  that 
we  do  know,  is  of  a  nature  kindred  to  reason,  and  that  by 
a  jpy'iori  necessity  we  can  affirm  that  not  only  all  knowablo 
existence  must  have  this  nature,  but  also  all  possible  exist- 
ence must.  Self-conscious  intelligence  must  be,  according 
to  its  very  definition,  subject  and  object  in  one,  and  thus 
universal." 

Hamilton  has  striven  to  break  this  charmed  circle  of 
the  mind  at  the  point  of  perception,  affirming  that  a  real 
objective  element  is  directly  recognized  therein.  He  says, 
"  AVe  have  no  reason  whatever  to  doubt  the  report  of  con- 
sciousness, that  we  actually  perceive  at  the  external  point 
of  sensation  and  that  we  perceive  the  material  reality." 
"  The  total  and  real  object  of  perception  is  the  external  ob- 
ject under  relation  to  our  sense  and  faculty  of  cognition." 


perception:  87 

"  Suppose  the  total  object  to  be  twelve,  that  the  external 
reality  constitutes  six,  the  material  sense  three,  and  the  mind 
three ;  this  may  enable  you  to  form  some  conjecture  of  the 
nature  of  the  object  of  perception." 

Is  there  any  good  ground  for  the  very  general  and  very 
stubborn  conviction  that  the  mind  cannot,  by  way  of  direct 
apprehension,  act  on  anything  external  to  itself ;  or  are 
Keid  and  Hamilton  right  in  regarding  this  as  a  pure  as- 
sumption ? 

It  is  very  difficult  and  very  important,  in  a  discussion 
of  this  character,  to  be  aware  of  the  physical  images  which 
cling  to  our  words  and  mislead  the  thought  by  material 
analogies.  In  and  out,  where  it  is  and  where  it  is  not,  are 
expressions  applicable  to  matter  rather  than  to  mind,  and 
we  must  not  confound  the  intellect  even  with  its  instru- 
ments, the  brain  and  the  nervous  system.  The  effects 
which  take  place  in  these  are  one  thing,  and  what  enters 
consciousness  as  a  purely  spiritual  product,  an  inner  experi- 
ence, is  quite  another.  The  connection  between  the  two, 
an  affection  of  the  organ  of  sense  and  an  affection  of  the 
mind,  is  unknown,  and  for  the  present  at  least  insoluble. 
They  are  as  wide  apart  in  kind  as  any  two  known  things  can 
be,  since  the  one  is  physical  and  the  other  spiritual,  classes 
of  phenomena  for  which  we  have  found  no  common  term. 
There  seems  some  plausibility  in  the  notion  of  external 
perception,  when  we  contemplate  the  organism  of  any  one 
sense,  as  that  of  the  eye.  The  light  enters.  A  sensible, 
visible  effect — visible  to  another  eye — is  evoked  on  the 
retina.  To  this  compound  effect  to  which  two  agencies 
are  contributing,  the  eye  and  the  light,  it  may  seem  rea- 
sonable to  regard  the  nerve  as  sensitive,  and  therefore  to 
suppose  it  to  take  cognizance  of  the  immediate  presence  of 
a  foreign  agent.  If,  then,  we  could  identify  the  perception 
of  the  mind  with  this  condition  of  its  organ,  there  would 


88  INTELLECT. 

seem  to  be  in  it  a  direct  knowledge  of  one  force  at  least, 
that  of  light,  alien  and  external  to  itself. 

But  even  on  this  supposition,  farther  reflection  would 
modify  our  conclusion.  In  purely  physical  causation,  the 
cause,  though  entering  into  the  effect,  is  not  as  a  cause 
recognizable  there.  Indeed  it  seems  probable  that  there 
is  not  invariably  the  same  transferred  force  in  one  series 
of  effects  as  in  another,  and  that  in  some  results  the  prime 
agency  quickly  disappears.  A  ball  is  struck  by  a  bat  and 
set  in  motion :  after  the  ball  has  parted  from  the  bat  how 
much  oi  the  antecedent  fact  could  be  found  in  the  sub- 
sequent one  of  independent  motion  ?  How  far  would  the 
second  phenomenon  directly  disclose  the  first,  or  what  com- 
mon term  or  force  could  be  detected  in  the  two  ?  The 
force  is  not  discernible  aside  from  the  results  it  occasions, 
and  antecedent  effects  are  not  given  in  subsequent  ones. 
Suppose  the  same  ball  to  be  observed  falling  under  the 
influence  of  gravitation.  How  far  would  this  new  cause  be 
discoverable  directly  in  this  new  phase  of  movement? 
Again,  chemical  action  is  initiated  by  a  rise  of  temperature ; 
water  is  instantly  frozen  under  certain  conditions  by  a  slight 
jar  ;  the  brain  is  quickened  by  a  full  stomach ;  in  these  and 
a  thousand  other  cases  of  causation,  what  portion  of  the 
cause  is  in  the  effect,  to  be  found  there  as  a  part  in  a  whole, 
as  the  numbers,  6,  3,  3,  in  the  sum  twelve.  Evidently  in  a 
purely  physical  effect  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  detect  the 
cause  as  a  cause  —  as  a  second,  alien  agency,  entering  into 
and  constituting  a  distinguishable  part  of  the  new,  simple 
state  before  us. 

We  perceive  phenomena  only,  not  the  underlying  forces, 
not  the  very  causes ;  these,  and  the  antecedent  facts  they 
may  have  occasioned,  are  matters  of  inference  and  of  ex- 
perience exclusively.  If,  then,  the  phenomena  transpiring 
in  the  eye  were,  as  they  are  not,  identical  with  those  of  the 


DIRECT  PERCEPTION.  89 

mind,  it  would  be  impossible  that  these  should  include  a 
knowledge  of  the  very  cause,  and  still  less  possible  that 
they  should  include  a  direct  knowledge  of  antecedent,  ex- 
ternal phenomena  reached  only  by  inference  through  this 
hidden,  unsearchable  force  or  cause.  We  may  direct  atten- 
tion  in  this  discussion  to  two  things:  the  very  cause  or 
efficiency  which  necessarily  coexists  with  the  effect  and 
sustains  it,  and  the  immediately  antecedent  phenomenal 
effect,  more  often  spoken  of  as  the  cause.  The  first  of 
these  is  not  discoverable  in  the  eye,  since  no  causes,  as 
causes,  can  be  directly  known.  To  know  phenomenally 
the  very  cause,  would  be  to  make  that  cause  a  phenomenon, 
that  is  an  effect,  that  is  not  a  cause.  Pure  causal  being, 
the  being  or  force  that  lies  back  of  phenomena,  cannot  be 
known  perceptively  as  a  result.  To  affirm  this  is  to  deny 
causation,  and  make  a  phenomenon  its  own  cause. 

The  second  of  these,  to  wit,  the  immediately  antecedent, 
outside  effect,  cannot  be  perceptively  found  and  known  in 
the  eye  for  the  obvious  reason  that  it  is  not  there.  If, 
therefore,  we  were  to  direct  the  attention  to  the  eye  alone, 
and  identify  its  states  with  those  of  the  mind,  we  should 
still  be  unable  perceptively  to  discover  anything  in  it  but 
its  own  phenomena,  which  are  neither  the  outside  object 
nor  any  cognizable  portion  of  it.  We  are  not  to  regard  the 
eye  with  the  facts  that  transpire  in  it  as  at  once  inseparable 
from  the  mind  and  external  to  it.  If  its  changes  are  the 
changes  of  the  mind,  then  all  that  is  outside  to  it  is  equally 
so  to  the  perception.  So  truly  subjective,  then,  is  even  the 
organic  state  of  the  eye  in  sight,  that  were  this  the  thing 
revealed  in  consciousness,  we  should  still  not  be  able  to 
separate  or  distinguish  the  external  element,  "  six,"  in  the 
sum  twelve,  and  know  it  directly  as  a  foreign  agency. 
The  phenomenal  six  alone  should  we  perceive,  and  still  be 
compelled  to  infer  hence  the  causal  six  supporting  it. 


90  INTELLECT. 

But  when  we  pass  beyond  the  condition  of  the  organ  as 
itself  unknown  to  the  mind  and  outside  of  it,  and  contem- 
plate the  true  immaterial  content  of  consciousness,  the  case 
is,  if  possible,  still  plainer.  Perception  as  an  act  of  mind 
does  not  reveal  to  us  the  instrument  of  sense  Bmployed,  or 
the  state  of  that  instrument.  The  connection  between  a 
mental  state  and  the  physical  state  which  accompanies  it,  is 
mysterious  and  unknown  ;  it  is  not  so  much  as  hinted  at  in 
the  very  act  of  perception  in  consciousness.  For  aught  that 
we  can  see,  the  last  might  be  very  different  from  what 
it  is,  and  the  first  remain  the  same.  Indeed,  that  there  are 
to  sight  and  hearing  accompanying  physical  states,  what 
these  states  are,  and  even  where  they  are,  constitute  facts 
which  require  to  be  learned  from  experience. 

It  has  helped  to  obscure  the  doctrine  of  perception, 
that  a  distinct  image  on  the  retina  has  been  found  to  in- 
tervene between  the  object  and  vision.  This  image  has 
drawn  attention  as  something  especially  necessary  and  ex- 
planatory. It  is,  however,  in  reference  to  vision  a  mere 
accident,  as  much  so  as  the  possible  images  which  may  be 
formed  within  the  tube  of  a  telescope.  These  images  one 
and  all  play  no  part  as  images,  but  simply  as  causal  links. 
The  image  on  the  retina  is  only  one  term  in  the  physical 
agencies,  which  finally  express  themselves  in  the  molecular 
changes  of  the  brain.  If  we  were  to  examine  the  eye  in 
delirium,  we  should  find  no  images  in  it  of  the  objects 
evoked  by  the  mind. 

Even  in  advanced  life  we  do  not  always  recognize  at 
which  ear  a  given  sound  chiefly  enters,  and  tentatively  test 
the  qufvstion  by  turning  the  attention  first  in  one  direction, 
then  in  the  other.  The  content  of  consciousness,  then,  is 
not  of  such  a  nature  as  to  reveal  in  perception  the  states  of 
the  retina,  or  of  the  auditory  nerve ;  or  whether  there  is 
in  them  more  or  less  of  foreign  action.     These  changes  arc 


DIRECT  PERCEPTION.  91 

sunk  foundations  on  which  the  visible  structure  rests,  but 
are  not  in  the  least  disclosed  in  their  nature  by  it.  They 
are  the  submarine  cable,  neither  declared  in  its  length  nor 
its  depth,  nor  in  the  mechanical  nor  electric  conditions  of 
its  structure,  by  the  messages  sent  and  received  at  either 
terminus.  To  introduce  causes  into  consciousness,  that 
they  may  be  there  directly  known,  is  either  to  assert  their 
supersensual  and  immaterial  character,  is  to  grant  the  as- 
sertion of  idealism,  "  We  do  know  the  object,  and  there- 
fore it  is  of  a  nature  akin  to  thought,"  or  it  is  to  break 
down  the  fundamental  distinction  between  mental  and 
physical  phenomena,  affirming  that  both  transpire  in  con- 
sciousness, and  that  the  physical  facts  of  the  brain  are  the 
spiritual  facts  of  mind.  Yet  having  made  this  inadmissible 
concession,  we  are  confronted  with  the  fact,  that  conscious- 
ness does  not  of  itself  indicate  whether  the  brain,  or  the 
heart,  or  the  bowels,  are  the  seat  of  thought ;  whether  we 
see  with  our  fingers  or  our  eyes  ;  and  the  further  fact,  that 
causes,  as  causes,  are  never  discoverable  even  in  purely 
physical  effects. 

The  assertion,  then,  that  we  cannot  directly  know  things 
in  themselves,  follows  inevitably  from  the  two  assertions : 
consciousness  is  the  sole  field  of  perceptive  knowledge ;  no 
material  phenomena,  as  material,  can  appear  in  conscious- 
ness, interpenetrated,  so  to  speak,  by  it.  Consciousness 
covers  all  intellectual  knowledge,  and  excludes  all  else; 
lays  down  a  line  of  demarcation  impassable  either  from 
within  or  from  without,  cutting  apart  matter  and  mind. 
This  conclusion  we  believe  all  experience  confirms,  and 
that  no  one  would  have  thought  of  denying  it,  save  under 
the  pressure  of  certain  difficulties  to  be  evaded,  and  certain 
conclusions  to  be  reached. 

§  4.  How  far  pure  idealism,  that  professedly  knows 
only  mind,  is   entitled   to  these   assertions  which  we   are 


92  INTELLECT. 

ready  to  make  in  common  with  it,  is  a  question  of  more 
doubt.  We,  in  our  position,  arrive  at  them  by  an  inferen- 
tial knowledge  both  of  matter  and  mind,  by  a  discovery 
of  their  mutually  impenetrable  character.  If  we  were,  as 
idealism  asserts,  in  every  way  debarred  access  to  matter — 
to  matter  as  believed  in  by  the  masses  of  men — it  would 
certainly  not  be  so  plain  how  we  could  come  so  universally 
to  form  a  distinct,  uniform  and  controlling  idea  of  its  char- 
acter, and  be  able  also  to  affirm,  that  this  most  omnipresent 
and  fixed  of  our  notions  is,  in  its  essential  features,  a  mere 
figment  of  the  brain.  Why  a  series  of  physical  conceptions 
which  is  removed  by  the  very  nature  of  mind  from  even 
the  bare  possibility  both  of  knowledge  and  being  should 
nevertheless  be  the  most  uniform  and  universal  of  men- 
tal states,  is  not  explained  by  idealism.  How  a  form  of 
thought,  necessarily  false,  comes  to  be  a  fixed  product  and 
characteristic  of  mind  ;  how  it  happens  that  we  continually 
talk,  think  and  act  in  reference  to  matter^ — matter  which  by 
the  constitution  of  the  mind,  is  beyond  all  forms  of  knowl- 
edge ;  how  science  and  philosophy  come  to  so  utterly  differ 
from  each  other  in  their  beliefs,  are  mysteries  which  must 
ever,  to  the  straightforward,  practical  thinker,  reflect  the 
highest  improbability  on  idealism,  and  leave  it  among  those 
strange,  remote  conclusions,  which  when  not  directly  dis- 
proved are  too  far  off  to  disturb  the  orbit  of  our  daily  life. 
When  philosophy  subverts  knowledge,  instead  of  expound- 
ing it,  and  denies  the  validity  of  the  most  settled,  familiar 
and  unavoidable  judgments  of  the  mind,  it  assumes  an 
anarchical  character,  removing  the  foundations,  if  not  of 
thought,  yet  of  conviction. 

We  believe  the  true  doctrine  of  perception  to  be,  that 
the  state  of  consciousness  therein  is  purely  subjective  both  in 
action  and  object,  indeed  that  the  action  and  object  are  in- 
separable.    To  perceive  a  color,  is  to  put  forth  a  complete, 


PERCEPTION.  93 

primary,  simple  act  of  knowing,  complete  in  that  something 
is  known ;  primary  in  that  no  further  explanation  can  be 
forced  upon  it,  the  act  standing  in  its  own  light,  appre- 
hensible for  what  it  is  in  itself ;  and  simple  in  that  it  is 
incapable  of  successful  analysis.  On  the  occasion  of  such  a 
perception,  the  mind,  of  its  own  interpreting  action,  under 
the  notion  of  causation,  infers  an  external  source  of  the 
impression,  which,  as  a  necessary,  certain  and  uniform  con- 
clusion, becomes  to  it  as  valid  as  any  that  it  ever  makes. 
Its  validity,  like  the  validity  of  all  mental  acts,  is  referable 
to  the  clearness  and  constancy  with  which  it  is  made  and 
repeated.  We  reach,  then,  the  external  world  not  directly 
by  perception,  but  indirectly,  inferentially,  along  a  bridge 
of  thought,  whose  farther  abutment  our  rational  nature 
supplies,  and  whose  connections  are  established  by  varied, 
repeated  and  protracted  experience.  Shifting  the  figure 
we  strike  the  shore  with  the  grapple  of  causation,  and  by 
this  guy  we  swing. 

If  asked  why  the  mind  supplies  the  idea  in  connection 
with  one  mental  state,  that  of  perception,  more  than  with 
another,  as  that  of  thought ;  how  it  knows  where  and  wdien 
to  fling  into  the  air  its  coil  of  rope,  that  it  may  thereby  be 
lashed  to  the  physical  world,  the  answer  comes :  It  is  the 
fruit  of  varied  experience.  A  sensation  is  found  to  be  a 
new,  distinct,  sudden,  independent  state.  As  such  it  de- 
mands explication  in  an  outside  cause.  A  thought  is  a  con- 
secutive, evolved,  dependent  product,  that  can  be  renewed 
in  the  mind  at  pleasure,  and  by  this  fact  finds  explication 
through  the  mind  itself.  The  various  senses  also,  in  their 
diverse  yet  independent  reports,  mutually  aid  and  guide 
the  mind  in  this  reference  of  sensations  to  external  causes. 
Impressions  in  distinct  organs  are  found  always  to  accom- 
pany each  other  in  certain  forms,  under  a  fixed  order. 
Thus  experience  is  constantly  disclosing  the  character  of 


94: 


INTELLECT. 


phenomena,  and  the  mind  rapidly  learns  to  distinguish 
those  inwardly  dependent  on  its  own  action,  from  those 
dependent  outwardly  on  foreign  agents.  This  class  it 
can  not,  from  its  own  constitution,  leave  without  this  causal 
reference  and  exposition. 

The  confusion  which  sometimes  overtakes  the  mind  in 
perception,  illustrates  its  method  of  education,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  commenced.  A  pressure  is  felt 
across  the  forehead,  as  if  the  band  placed  upon  it  had  been 
drawn  too  tightly.  We  cannot  tell  with  certainty  whether 
the  impression  is  due  to  this  cause,  or  to  the  astringency  of 
a  fluid  with  which  the  fillet  was  saturated.  We  test  the 
point  by  raising  the  hand,  and  determining  whether  or  not 
mechanical  force  is  present.  In  the  absence  of  this,  we 
refer  the  feeling  to  the  condition  of  the  nerves.  Again, 
we  seem  to  hear  a  sound,  as  the  anxious  parent  the  crying 
of  her  child.  She  cannot  at  once  decide  whether  the  im- 
pression was  the  suggestion  of  her  own  thought,  or  the 
actual  effect  of  the  supposed  cause.  The  attention  is  more 
carefully  directed,  the  phenomena  that  enter  the  mind 
from  without  being  discriminated  from  the  mere  play  of 
fancy ;  and  by  this  more  complete  separation  of  its  own 
action  from  the  action  of  other  agents  the  point  is  settled. 

§  5.  It  has  been  thought,  and  much  has  been  made  of 
this  point,  that  a  denial  of  direct  perception  is  an  impeach- 
ment of  the  veracity  of  our  faculties,  or,  as  it  is  expressed 
by  Hamilton  and  others,  of  consciousness ;  and  that  the 
way  is  thus  logically  opened  to  universal  scepticism. 
Idealism  is  certainly  not  a  denial  of  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness. Perception  as  a  fact  of  mind,  is  accepted,  and  the 
first  exception  taken  is  as  to  what  perception  is,  what  it 
gives  us.  Now  the  veracity  of  consciousness  is  only  in- 
volved in  the  mere  fact  of  perception,  the  mere  rehearsal 
and  acceptance  of  its  mental  phenomena,  not  at  all  in  the 


PERCEPTION.  ,         95 

nature  and  validity  of  its  supposed  revelations.  Idealism 
does,  however,  set  aside  a  most  universal  belief  of  mankind, 
and  so  far  tends  to  scepticism.  But  tins  accusation  does 
not  hold  against  the  view  of  perception  now  presented. 
The  general  belief  of  men  in  an  external  world  is  main- 
tained, though  a  careful  analysis  shows  the  grounds  of  the 
conclusion  to  be  somewhat  different  from  those  at  first  ac- 
cepted. The  accusation  against  idealism  is  not  that  it 
shows  a  general  opinion  to  be  groundless,  but  that  it  affirms 
simply  and  nakedly  a  general  and  necessary  belief  to  be 
deceptive ;  that  is,  the  reiterated  and  constant  action  of  the 
mind  to  be  delusive.  AVe  may,  on  like  grounds,  pronounce 
the  axiomatic  conclusions  of  the  reason  unrehable.  These 
are  nothing  more  than  its  inevitable  convictions. 

The  affirmation  in  which  the  unaided  powers  of  all 
men  agree,  which  they  spontaneously  and  inevitably  make, 
is  the  existence  of  an  external  world,  the  opposition  of 
matter  to  mind,  a  reference  of  a  portion  of  our  inner  expe- 
rience to  outer  sources  or  causes.  Whether  this  conclusion 
is  intuitive,  or  involves  one  or  more  of  the  simplest  acts  of 
judgment,  most  men  have  never  so  much  as  inquired,  and 
have  therefore  no  convictions  concerning  it.  It  is  doubt- 
less a  matter  of  surprise  to  most  persons  to  find,  on  in- 
quiry, so  many  judgments  mingled  with  the  simplest  act 
of  sight.  These  had  been  overlooked,  and  the  act  of  see- 
ing regarded  as  more  full,  explicit  and  immediate  than  it 
is.  Language  favors  this  concealment  of  obscure,  rapid 
judgments,  and  we  are  said  to  see  the  form  of  a  sphere, 
when  we  merely  infer  it.  Yet  there  is  no  ground  for  a 
distrust  of  man's  faculties,  because  they  are  formed  to  act 
in  ways  and  proportions  not  perfectly  understood  by  tliose 
who  accept  results  with  no  investigation  of  methods.  To 
tell  a  man  that  the  unlikeness  of  the  images  of  the  same 
object  in  each  of  his  two  eyes,  is  one  of  the  grounds  from 


96  INTELLECT. 

wliich  the  impression  of  nearness  is  received,  may  interest 
and  surprise  him,  but  does  not  so  shake  his  confidence  in 
his  own  conchisions  as  to  be  told  that  the  external  world, 
in  which  he  has  so  fully  believed  that  he  has  never  so 
much  as  thought  of  its  existence  as  a  matter  of  belief,  is  a 
mere  creation  of  the  mind,  one  portion  of  its  own  acts 
being  thrown  into  opposition  to  another  portion.  The  one 
assertion  arrests  and  throws  back  in  confused,  eddying  cur- 
rents, the  whole  stream  of  intellectual  action ;  the  other 
merely  shows  that  analysis  reveals  more  elements  in  mental 
phenomena  than  those  at  first  caught  sight  of.  There  is  no 
reason  why  the  statement  that  there  is  a  simple  judgment 
involved  in  a  belief  of  the  existence  of  matter  and  of  mind, 
should  be  regarded  as  any  more  destructive  to  the  faith  to 
be  reposed  in  our  faculties,  than  the  generally  accepted 
doctrine,  that  sight  includes  many  judgments  dependent 
on  protracted  experience.  The  assertion  of  Hamilton, 
"  that  consciousness  gives  a  knowledge  of  the  ego,  in  rela- 
tion and  contrast  to  the  non-ego,"  even  if  it  were  readily 
intelligible  to  all,  would  hardly,  I  think,  be  regarded  as  a 
satisfactory  statement  of  a  general  and  unwavering  belief, 
when  contrasted  with  the  statement,  there  is  found  that  in 
consciousness  from  which  we  directly  and  inevitably  infer 
the  existence  of  matter  and  mind.  Most  would  doubtless 
regard  the  two  statements  as  open  to  consideration,  as  lying 
alike  in  the  line  of  the  common  belief  in  the  external  world. 
Indeed,  to  say  that  the  mind  is  conscious  of  itself,  or  is 
conscious  of  matter,  gives  a  shock  at  once  to  thought,  and 
is  far  from  being  that  explicit,  indefeasible  statement  of  the 
common  faith  which  all  at  once  recognize. 

The  exact  ground  of  the  general  belief  is  certainly 
open  to  inquiry,  and  one  statement  which  accepts  its  va- 
lidity is  no  more  exposed  to  the  charge  of  a  denial  of  the 
integrity  of  the  human  faculties  than  another.     Indeed  the 


PERCEPTION.  97 

spontaneous  conviction  of  the  existence  and  nature  of  ex- 
ternal objects  involves  many  judgments  besides  this  one  of 
causation.     I  see  the  apple  before  me.     Mj  present  impres 
sion  is — the  steps  of  my  past  experience  being  unanalyzed 
— that  I  see  it  to  be  round,  to  be  red,  to  be  three  inches  in 
diameter  and  at  a  distance  of  three  feet.     How  does  this 
impression  agree  with  what  Sir  "William  Hamilton  says  is 
the  real  object  of  perception  ?     "  Through  the  eye  w^e  per- 
ceive nothing  but  the  rays  of  light  in  relation  to,  and  in 
contact  with  the  retina."      Who  ever  perceived   them,  or 
came  to  so  much  as  a  knowledge  of  them,  without  diligent 
scientific  incpiiry  ?     Light,  as  the  fruit  of  much  research, 
is  found  to  be  a  form  of  motion,  and  this  motion  to  affect 
the  retina ;  but  no  man  ever  knows  the  existence  of  the 
retina,  or  of  the  undulations  of  light  thereon,  save  through 
an  inquiry  into  eyes  other  than  his  own,  and  a  careful  in- 
vestigation of  the  physical  world.     What  is  here  asserted 
to  be  the  sole  object  of  perception,  the  mind  never  per- 
ceives, but  only  employs  it  as  a  submerged,  unknown  cause 
through  which  it  arrives  at  its  own  knowledge,  to  wit :  a 
red  apple  of  a  given  size  and  position.     In  this  final  pro- 
duct of  perception,  there  are  contained  innumerable  judg- 
ments, and  it  should  certainly  be  no  surprise  to  find  among 
them  this  one  of  outside  existence.     That  the  spaces  of  the 
world  are  inferentially  given,  is  entirely  in  keeping  with 
the  fact  that  those  of  a  painting  are,  by  the  previous  habit 
and  impulse  of  the  mind,  supplied  under  suitable  sugges- 
tions of  liffht  and  shade. 

The  crude  material  granted  to  the  mind  seems  to  be  a 
subjective  impression  of  redness,  of  angular  extension  and 
various  shades.  From  these,  by  the  aid  of  muscular  and 
tactual  experience,  and  the  help  afforded  by  the  color  and 
relations  of  surrounding  objects,  it  constructs  an  apple  and 
assigns  it  independent  existence  in  a  definite  locality.     This 


OS  INTELLECT. 

it  now  does  instantly,  like  a  flash  of  light,  though  it  has 
acquired  the  power  of  doing  it  slowly,  by  much  and  forgot- 
ten experience.  The  primitive,  intellectual  elements  are 
wholly  unlike  this  final  result,  these  data  of  sense  intershot 
with  a  few  firm  threads  from  the  shuttle  of  reason.  In- 
deed, no  instance  in  our  later  knowledge,  in  which  an  entire 
system  of  principles  is  evolved  from  a  few  facts,  more 
evinces  the  astonishing  power  which  belongs  to  the  mind, 
than  does  this  simplest,  earliest,  most  common  case  of  rea- 
soning, that  of  perception. 

That  color  is  known  as  the  motion  of  an  ethereal  me- 
dium on  the  retina,  or  that  there  is  any  connection  of  the 
two,  or  knowledge  of  the  one  in  and  through  the  other, 
are  statements  not  intelligible  even,  till  science  by  second- 
ary inquiries  has  made  them  so.  The  transfer  of  motion 
at  one  sense  into  vision,  at  another  into  hearing,  and  in  the 
brain  itself  into  thought,  are  inexplicable  transformations, 
whose  terms  we  only  know  by  independent  investigation, 
and  even  then  fail  of  their  connection.  To  suppose  that 
any  portion  of  this  knowledge  comes  directly  in  percep- 
tion, is  the  most  obvious  and  violent  perversion  of  experi- 
ence. 

If  we  were  directly  cognizant  of  the  content  in  tlie 
organ  of  sense,  cognizant  of  it  for  what  it  is  and  where  it 
is  physically,  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  deception 
or  oversight  in  matters  of  percej)tion.  A  force  acting  on 
a  machine  tells,  and  must  tell,  for  exactly  what  it  is.  The 
effect  is  direct  and  inevitable.  So  would  it  be  in  percep- 
tion. We  should  never  make  a  gliost  of  a  stump,  or  over- 
look altogether  the  objects  whose  images  are  actually  on  the 
retina  ;  that  have  actually  caused  the  light  to  impinge  with 
customary  power  on  this  sensitive  medium.  It  is  because 
the  mind  gives  a  frightened  attention  or  no  attention,  in- 
adequate interpretation  or  no  interpretation,  to  these  ob- 


PERCEPTION.  99 

jects,  that  perception  is  distorted,  or  fails  altogether.     The 
mere  physical  effect  in  itself  alone  is  nugatory. 

It  is  said  that  those  whose  eyes  are  distorted,  use  eitlier 
one  or  the  other  as  they  choose,  directing  the  attention  to 
the  right  or  the  left  as  convenience  requires,  the  impression 
in  the  neglected  organ  going  for  nothing ;  and  we  all  of  us 
evidently  take  up  and  lay  down  at  pleasure  the  physical 
effects  on  the  retina,  using  them  as  means  of  vision  only 
when  the  mind  is  at  leisure  to  do  so.  These  facts  show 
without  doubt,  that  perception  is  deeper  than  the  organ  of 
sense,  is  by  no  means  identical  with  the  a^^propriate  action 
therein,  nor  is  sure  to  follow  it.  It  is,  then,  no  impeach- 
ment of  the  veracity  of  our  faculties  to  inquire  into  the  ex- 
act mode  of  their  action,  nor  any  the  more  so  because  the 
inquiry  discloses  unexpected  results. 

§  6.  The  only  perfectly  direct  and  absolutely  simple 
form  of  knowing  is  the  knowledge  which  the  mind  has  of 
its  own  states  and  actions,  because  thev  are  its  own.  When 
the  state  is  itself  simple  and  ultimate,  we  term  it  a  sensa- 
tion, a  feeling;  when  the  act  is  pure  and  simple,  embracing 
all  its  terms  within  itself,  we  call  it  intuitive  ;  and  the 
mind  therein  is  an  ultimate  authority  to  itself.  The  intui- 
tive action  and  the  consciousness  of  the  intuitive  action  are 
one  and  the  same  thing.  Thus  that  two  and  two  make  four 
is  a  statement  that  may  receive  illustration  but  is  capable 
of  no  proof.  The  mind  within  itself  sees  and  comprehends 
the  relation  expressed,  It  has  a  direct  knowledge  of  it. 
When  the  act  under  consideration  is  one  of  inference,  it  re- 
mains known  as  an  act  directly,  but  is  itself  the  ground  of 
further  indirect  knowledge.  Thus  we  see  the  kaleidoscope 
directly,  but  we  also  see  in  it  something  which  depends  for 
its  form  on  the  structure  of  the  instrument. 

All  phenomena  immediately  known  to  the  mind  are  its 
own  phenomena,  since  consciousness  is  the  distinctive  char- 


102  INTELLECT. 

form,  are  tlie  products  of  experience.     Colors  simply  have 
tlieir  own  character  and  subtend  an  angle.     This  is  all  that 
the  mind,  through  the  eje  as  an  organ,  directly  declares. 
Surfaces  are  determined  by  distances  both  as  to  nature  and 
extent,  and  the  only  fixed  perceptive  term  out  of  which 
these  judgments  grow,  so  far  as  the  eye  is  concerned,  is  an- 
gular measurements,  which  are  the  same  for  many  different 
surfaces,  the  same  for  solids  as  for  surfaces,  and  hence  di- 
rectly involve  no  one  surface.     The  floating  muscse  of  the 
eye  assume  any  size,  according  to  the  distance  of  the  objects 
on  which  they  are  cast,  though  their  angular  dimensions 
remain   the   same.     When    we   look   out   into   space,    the 
spherical  impression  of  the  concave  is  due  to  partial  inter- 
pretation, with  conditions  of  vision  too  narrow  to  make  it 
complete.     The  stars  are  all  thrown  outward,  but  with  dif- 
ferences of  distances  undiscernible.     The  corners  of  a  room 
would  disappear,  or  the  edges  of  a  cube,  were  not  our  im- 
pressions of  these  made  up  of  shades  as  w^ell  as  angular 
measurements.     The  two  we  easily  translate  into  position 
and  surface.     It  is  these  elements  that  the  painter  deals 
with,  renewing  the   impressions   of   vision  by  colors  and 
shades,  and  by  surfaces  which  act  not  by  their  absolute  di- 
mensions, but  by  their  suggestions  of  distance  and  position. 
It  is  true  he  reaches  his  angles  through  surfaces,  but  we  do 
not  contemplate  them  as  surfaces  of  such  and  such  dimen- 
sions on  the  canvas,  but  in  their  angular  force  through  the 
eye  as  suggestive  of  the  character  and  positions  of  known 
objects.     The  horse  in  the  foreground  covers  more  space 
in  the  picture  than  tlie  mountain  in  the  background  ;  and 
the  size  of  the  latter  is  impressed  upon  us,  first  by  indica- 
tions of  distance,  and  then  by  the  angle  subtended. 

The  earliest  and  most  fundamental  of  absorbed  judg- 
ments is  tliat  of  distance.  Touch  and  motion  come  to 
initiate  this  judgment,  and,  the  size  of  familiar  objects  be- 


SIGHT.  103 

ing  fixed,  tlie  eye  carries  forward  the  process  by  observing 
their  angukr  or  apparent  size  in  various  positions.  Size 
and  distance  mutually  contain  each  other ;  if  we  know  the 
one  we  can  infer  the  other. 

•  We  also  judge  of  distance  by  intervening  objects,  them- 
selves interpreted  in  their  relations  by  experience.  Again 
we  infer  it  from  depth  of  color.  This  test,  however,  is  ap- 
plicable only  to  remote  objects,  and,  in  comparative  judg- 
ments, to  objects  quite  unequally  remote.  The  ridges  of 
mountains,  rising  in  succession  beyond  each  otlier,  are 
separated  to  the  eye  by  the  different  shades  of  blue  that 
rest  upon  them.  The  degree  in  which,  in  these  estimates, 
we  are  dependent  on  our  own  experience  is  indicated  by 
our  wild  conclusions  under  novel  conditions.  The  pure  at- 
mosphere and  the  unaccustomed  dimensions  of  high  moun- 
tains make  the  impressions  of  one  who  visits  a  country 
like  Switzerland  for  the  first  time  exceedingly  deceptive. 
Weeks  and  months  of  laborious  walking  must  be  passed 
before  these  objects  assume  their  true  dimensions,  and  take 
on  their  real  grandeur.  In  like  manner  the  inexperienced 
landsman  loses  all  accuracy  when  called  on  to  estimate  dis- 
tances on  the  water. 

A  fourth  aid  in  determining  distances  is  the  muscular 
adjustment  of  the  eyes  in  bringing  the  image  to  the  focal 
point  on  the  retina.  This  test  affords  but  slight  assistance, 
however,  and  is  applicable  to  objects  comparatively  close  at 
hand.  We  are  not  conscious  of  a  readjustment  of  the  eye, 
except  under  a  sudden  change  of  vision  at  ranges  whose 
inequality  is  very  obvious.  If  an  object  near  by  is  sud- 
denly thrust  upon  the  attention,  the  effort  to  see  it  becomes 
even  painful.  The  judgments  of  ordinary  vision  are  vague, 
giving  the  general  relation  of  objects  in  position  more 
than  their  direct  distance  from  the  observer. 

A  second  perceptive  judgment  in  sight  is  that  of  form. 


lOtt  IMELLECT. 

The  conditions  of  this  judgment  are  light  and  shade.  In 
large  and  complex  objects,  like  mountain  ranges,  as  form 
involves  position,  our  judgments  in  this  particular  are 
mingled  with  and  modified  by  those  of  distance. 

A  third  judgment  in  vision  is  that  of  size.  Though  we 
infer  distance  from  size,  and  equally  well  size  from  distance, 
the  former  is  the  more  common  case  in  experience.  Well- 
established  sizes,  settled  by  close  contact,  are  our  ordinary 
data.  Yet  it  not  infrequently  happens  that  distances  are 
known,  and  we  thence  infer  the  dimensions  of  strange  ob- 
jects. The  variety  and  vagueness  of  our  impressions  as  to 
the  size  of  the  moon  are  due  to  the  fact  that  distance  does 
not  enter  in  as  a  measurable  factor.  The  primitive  data, 
then,  of  the  eye  are  color,  light  and  shade,  angles  ;  its  ac- 
quired data  distance,  involving  position,  form  and  size. 

Two  eyes  in  vision  give  us  an  advantage  besides  that  of 
protection  against  accident,  or  even  that  of  stronger  sight. 
The  circles  of  vision  in  the  two  eyes  of  man  do  not  quite 
correspond  ;  the  one  includes  portions  not  found  in  the 
other.  Also,  by  virtue  of  distinct  positions,  the  two  alter 
slightly,  each  as  compared  w4th  the  other,  the  relations  of 
objects.  These  facts  make  the  perspective  more  definite, 
especially  as  regards  objects  juot  at  hand,  in  reference  to 
which  exactness  is  important.  We  secure  by  two  eyes  a 
triangulation  available  in  defining  distance  and  position. 
So  important  is  this  aid  that  the  loss  of  one  eye  is  attended 
with  considerable  confusion  of  perspective.  An  intervening 
object,  also,  brings  less  obstruction  to  two  eyes  than  to  one. 

The  ear,  the  second  leading  organ  of  perception,  deals 
with  sound,  with  the  undulations  of  the  air  within  a  certain 
range  of  rapidity.  This  range,  however,  is  not  identical  in 
all  persons,  a  rate  of  vibration  being  in  some  instances  audi- 
ble to  one  and  inaudible  to  another.  The  physical  charac- 
teristics of  sound  are  quality  or  timbre,  pitch  and  quantity 


HEARING.^         4^y         ^  /i  1^5 


or  intensity.     In  addition  to  these  \pri(na¥y  cpaHtAcs,  tliere?^> 
are  secondary  ones,  wliich  combine  physic^  ^i^criiniilation     / 
with   rational   association.      Sounds   are  thus' 'ifi)ellecti/al, 
emotional,  and  musical.     The  first  two  may  each  exist|  with-  ^/  - 
out  the  others,  and  the  third  quite  modifies  the  two  fonrjfer 
in  their  combinations  and   force.     Original  discrimination 
and  the  modifications  of  experience  enter,  in  a  most  com- 
plex and  inseparable  way,  into  the   appreciation  of    these 
secondary  qualities.     The  primary  qualities  of  sound,  like 
those  of  vision,  develop  a  series  of  perceptive  judgments, 
though  these  judgments  are  less  numerous  and  important 
than  those  of  the  eye. 

We  infer  from  a  sound  its  source,  as  the  presence  of  an 
acquaintance  from  his  voice.  These  judgments  rest  wholly 
on  the  associations  of  experience.  We  judge  of  the  dis- 
tance of  any  audible  object  by  the  intensity  of  the  sound. 
This  class  of  inferences  arises  under  more  uniform  natural 
connections  interpreted  to  us  by  experience.  We  also 
decide  by  sound,  though  with  some  hesitation,  on  the  direc- 
tion of  audible  objects.  In  these  conclusions  we  derive 
assistance  from  the  possession  of  two  ears.  Direction  is 
settled  by  the  greatest  intensity  of  sound,  it  being  found  in 
the  line  of  the  wave  motion. 

In  touch,  taste,  and  odor  we  deal  with  matter  in  three 
forms — as  offering  resistance  in  masses,  as  floating  in  a  gas- 
eous or  most  minute  form  in  the  air,  as  dissolved  in  water 
or  saliva.  In  the  first,  the  condition  is  mechanical,  in  the 
other  two  chemical.  The  things  of  which  these  senses  take 
cognizance  are,  between  the  three  senses,  incomparable  with 
each  other,  and,  in  the  same  sense,  very  numerous,  with 
every  gradation  of  difference.  The  sensations  take  on  the 
variety  and  changeable  forms  of  the  feelings,  as  opposed  to 
the  narrow  and  definite  action  of  the  powers  of  the  mind. 
Our  perceptive  judgments  through  these  three  senses  are 


lOG  INTELLECT. 

made  up  of  the  variable  combinations  of  experience.  They 
retain  more  firmly  their  distinct  character  than  in  the  other 
senses,  and  are  enlarged  under  a  more  directly  guided  effort. 
Vision  contains  the  largest  amount  of  completely  absorbed 
judgments,  judgments  that  turn  on  general  principles,  and 
are  early  taken  up  in  an  inseparable  way  with  the  percep- 
tion. The  presence  of  tliese  inferences  are  not  only  dis- 
closed bv  the  mistakes  we  make  under  them,  when  our  data 
are  insufficient, — as  in  determining  distances  and  relations 
under  novel  circumstances — but  also  by  various  contrivances 
by  which  we  alter  the  conditions  of  sight,  and  so  the  appar- 
ent position  and  magnitude  of  objects. 

When  we  roll  up  a  piece  of  paper  like  a  funnel,  and 
view  a  painting  through  it  with  one  eye,  the  perspective  is 
brought  out  more  strongly.  The  increased  effect  of  this 
monocular  vision  is  due  to  the  fact,  that  surrounding  objects 
are  cut  off,  the  actual  distance  of  the  canvas,  so  distinctly 
given  by  both  eyes,  is  obscured,  and  the  data  of  the  paint- 
ing alone  are  present.  The  eye,  relieved  from  the  contra- 
diction of  near  objects,  j^roceeds  at  once  to  construct  the 
landscape  under  the  suggestions  of  the  painter,  with  its  true 
dimensions.  A  mask  looked  at  in  this  way  in  the  rear  may, 
by  an  instant,  unobserved  transfer  of  light  and  shade  from 
one  side  of  the  face  to  the  other,  be  constructed  with  its 
features  in  relief,  as  if  seen  in  front. 

In  the  skeleton  form  of  a  stereoscope,  in  which  two  pic- 
tures of  the  same  object  are  separated  by  a  card,  so  that  one 
image  is  seen  exclusively  by  one  eye,  and  the  other  by  the 
other  eye,  the  two  eyes  unite  to  construct  the  view  at  a 
distance,  as  if  they  were  looking  at  remote,  real  objects,  in 
reference  to  which  the  card  between  the  eyes  would  present 
no  embarrassment.  The  eyes  being  restricted  in  vision, 
being  set  free  from  the  contradiction  of  surrounding  facts, 
each  takes  up  its  own  representation  in  a  sort  of  double 


PERCEPTION.  107 

monocular  action,  and  transfers  it,  with  corresponding  in- 
crease of  dimensions,  to  the  distance  implied  in  the  picture 
itself.  It  can  then  unite  with  the  impression  furnished  by 
the  other  eye,  and  the  two  blend  into  one  view.  The  mo- 
nocular character  of  the  effort  is  plain  from  the  fact  that, 
when  we  fail  to  harmonize  the  two  images,  vision  through 
one  eye  still  produces  the  desired  illusion.  Still  farther, 
the  axes  of  vision  in  the  eyes  are  made  less  convergent,  as 
w^hen  directed  to  distant  objects.  To  aid  the  construction, 
the  two  images  are  taken  from  slightly  removed  positions, 
thereby,  in  reference  to  the  foreground,  giving  the  same 
readjustment  of  objects  in  position  as  that  which  belongs  to 
double  vision.  This  advantage  is,  however,  immaterial, 
except  in  connection  with  near  objects.  The  lenses  or 
mirrors  introduced  into  the  stereoscope  do  not  alter  the 
principle;  they  still  leave  the  eyes  to  do  independently 
their  constructive  w^ork,  and  to  identify  the  images  they 
have  removed  into  the  distance. 

§  8.  Perception  is  a  peculiarly  interesting  portion  of 
psychology.  Lying  at  the  commencement  of  the  study,  it 
imposes  upon  us  at  once  a  most  difficult  case  of  analysis  ; 
the  results  we  reach  ^o  far  to  settle  the  relations  of  mind 
and  matter  to  each  other ;  we  have  need  to  determine  the 
full  circle  of  mental  powers  and  put  them  all  in  operation 
in  laying  these  foundations  of  certain  knowledge  ;  the  auto- 
matic action  of  the  mind,  and  its  successive  stages  of  growth 
require  immediate  recognition;  while  historically  many 
questions  of  philosophy  have  been  settled  at  this  point. 

Perception,  in  its  broad  meaning,  includes  the  physical 
conditions  furnished  by  the  senses,  with  their  nervous  con- 
nections;  the  states  or  actions  of  mind  directly  incident 
thereto;  the  nature  of  the  dependence  of  these  states  on 
those  conditions  ;  the  extent  to  which  the  first  activity  of 
mind  is  enlarged  by  experience  ;  and  the  character  and  the 


108  INTELLECT. 

certainty  of  the  knowledge  both  of  the  internal  and  the 
external  world  that  accompanies  percej^tion.  We  will  rap- 
idly review  each  of  these  points  in  their  theoretical  and 
historical  bearings. 

The  phj^sical  conditions  of  sight,  hearing,  touch,  taste, 
and  smell  are  matters  purely  of  physical  inquiry.  A  satis- 
factory knowledge  of  the  intervening  means  of  perception 
is  comparatively  recent,  as  is  all  exact  anatomical  science. 
An  inquiry  into  the  physical  incidents  of  perception  has 
served  to  displace  some  crude  theories  of  its  method,  and  to 
make  way  for  a  more  careful  separation  of  the  material  and 
intellectual  elements  in  the  process,  or,  in  the  minds  of 
some,  for  their  more  complete  identification.  Tire  notion 
of  "  images,"  "  species,"  "  representative  ideas,"  which  me- 
diate between  the  object  and  the  mind,  arose  out  of  the 
ignorance  of  the  organs  of  sense,  and  lingered  in  philosophy 
as  late  as  the  time  of  Locke.  These  images  or  ideas  had 
one  or  another  degree  of  materiality  according  to  the  age, 
the  philosophy,  the  person,  wdio  dealt  wdth  them.  Earlier, 
they  were  a  physical  film  passing  off  from  the  object ;  later, 
as  the  immateriality  of  the  mind  gained  ground,  they 
shared  more  of  its  nature ;  but  at  no  time  could  they  per- 
form their  office.  To  whichever  extreme  they  moved,  they 
thereby  lost  power  to  touch  the  other.  If  spiritual,  they 
were  out  of  relation  with  matter,  if  material,  they  were 
disassociated  with  mind.  A  knowledge  of  the  eye,  the  ear, 
the  brain  sweeps  away  this  intermediate  mechanism,  estab- 
lishes the  complete  physical  character  of  the  organic  por- 
tion of  perception,  the  complete  spiritual  nature  of  the 
mental  portion,  and  leaves  the  interaction  of  the  two  an 
ultimate  fact. 

Descartes  sharply  distinguislied  between  mind  and  mat- 
ter, and  so  relegated  physical  inquiry  to  its  own  physical 
field,   and    mental   inquiry   to    consciousness.     All   media 


PERCEPTION.  109 

sharing  tlie  two  natures  disappeared ;  the  separation  of  the 
two  fields,  though  often  carried  to  a  mistaken  extent,  be- 
came decisive.  Thus  the  way  was  prepared  for  sound  in- 
vestio^ation  in  both  directions. 

The  second  point  is  the  states  of  mind  incident  to  the 
ora'anic  action  of  the  senses.  The  content  of  the  sense  in 
each  instance,  with  its  definite,  discriminated  qualities,  in 
some  way  controls  the  mind,  and  the  mind  in  active,  con- 
structive fashion  responds  to  this  external  efficiency.  If 
any  physical  force  acts  upon  a  body  in  reference  to  it  inert, 
it  is  yet  true  that  the  result  will  turn  quite  as  much  on  the 
qualities  of  the  so-called  passive  agent  as  on  those  of  the 
aggressive  one.  Every  agent,  physical  and  mental,  ceases 
to  be  passive  under  action,  and  blends  in  the  results  its  own 
activities  with  those  of  the  efficient  cause.  We  may  forget 
this  in  mechanical  facts,  we  can  scarcely  forget  it  in  chemi- 
cal, vital,  mental  facts.  The  mind  is  barely  less  active  in 
a  sensation  than  in  a  perception,  in  a  feeling,  than  in  a 
thought.  Each  is  determined  as  a  conscious  state  by  a  sus- 
ceptibility called  out,  or  a  power  occupied.  As  regards  the 
fact  of  activity,  the  two  classes  are  not  separable,  though 
the  activity  in  perception  and  thought  is  more  voluntary, 
more  modifiable  than  that  in  sensation  and  feeling.  The 
mind,  as  possessed  of  a  definite  constitution,  determines  the 
nature  and  efficiency  of  each  of  its  states.  If  the  mind  is 
restricted  to  organic  conditions  for  particular  sensations,  so 
are  these  conditions,  in  turn,  restricted  to  answering  suscep- 
tibilities before  they  pass  into  mental  facts.  ISTothing  but  a 
living  agent  can  feel.  When  oxygen  and  hydrogen  com- 
bine, there  are  conjoint  activities,  conjoint  properties,  con- 
joint products. 

The  activity  of  the  mind  in  sensation  is  shown  not 
merely  by  the  fact  that  sensibility  is  activity,  but  by  the 
fact  that  the  mind  is  ever  interpreting  and  attributing  its 


110  INTELLECT. 

sensations.  In  eacli  sense  the  whole  complex  nervous 
mechanism,  inclncling  the  external  organ,  the  connecting 
nerves  and  the  brain,  lies  between  the  mind  and  the  ob- 
ject, as  the  telescope  between  the  eye  and  the  stars,  the 
whispering-gallery  or  the  telephone  between  the  ear  and 
the  speaker.  Yet  it  is  not  of  one  or  all  of  these  conditions 
that  the  mind  is  cognizant.  It  sees  through  them,  hears 
through  them,  feels,  tastes,  and  smells  through  them.  It 
carries  the  facts  of  vision  outward  to  their  remote  objects, 
and  the  qualities  of  touch  or  flavor  to  their  sources.  The 
mind  is  always  taking  up  and  using  instrumentally  its  or- 
gans, and  is  no  more  subject  to  mere  effects  in  them,  than  is 
the  eye  in  using  a  microscope  cognizant  of  its  images  and 
lenses.  Intermediate  conditions  lie  as  submerged  links  in 
the  mind's  activity. 

]^o  image  could  well  be  more  inapt  than  that  of  Locke 
in  which  he  compared  the  mind  to  white  paper.  As  all 
knowledge  in  chemistrj^  up  to  the  present  time  has  been 
accumulating  the  conditions  by  which  the  plate  of  the 
photographer  is  made  sensitive  to  light,  so  all  evolution  has 
joined  in  shaj^ing  that  latest  power  by  which  mind  feels. 
Mind  is  the  one  only  agency  which  can  so  respond  to  the 
physical  world.  When  we  add  perception  to  sensation,  the 
marvel  grows.  All  senses  end  in  molecular  changes. 
From  these  common  terms,  so  like  one  to  another,  mind 
constructs,  in  the  hidden  joy  of  vision,  and  of  every  acces- 
sory sense,  this  universe  about  us,  with  its  immeasurable 
spaces,  its  brilliant  colors,  its  throbbing  sounds,  its  sweet 
odors,  its  stimulating  flavors,  its  velvety  surfaces,  and  its 
thousand  suggestions  of  life.  If  there  is  any  fit  image  of 
omnipotence,  it  is  this  mind  in  the  midst  of  tlie  world 
which  it  momentarily  evokes. 

The  third  fact  is  the  nature  of  the  interaction  between 
the  last  physical  facts  and  the  first  mental  ones.     Men  have 


PERCEPTION.  Ill 

struggled  long  and  vainly  with  this  ultimate  truth,  that 
matter  affects  mind  and  mind  affects  matter.  They  have 
stri\^en  to  insert  midway  terms ;  they  have  brought  down 
mental  to  physical  facts,  and  there  identified  the  two ; 
they  have  reversed  the  j^rocess,  and  regarded  j)erception 
and  sensation  as  purely  mental  processes.  It  is  well  to 
stand  with  Descartes,  and  assert  the  radical  division  between 
the  two  sets  of  phenomena,  so  radical  that  facts  of  the  one 
class  cannot  be  intelligibly  expressed  in  words  of  the  otlier 
class.  It  is  well  to  reject  all  explanations  that  explain 
nothing ;  to  make  no  assertions  of  the  possible  and  impossi- 
ble which  transcend  experience,  and  imply  on  our  part  a 
knowledare  of  ultimate  relations  that  violates  their  nature. 
It  is  well  to  stand  quietly  by  ultimate  facts,  putting  upon 
them  no  constiiictions  which  w^e  cannot  verify.  Physical 
facts  can  be  expounded  under  their  own  forms,  mental  facts 
under  their  forms ;  while  their  interaction,  to  us  at  least 
unphenomenal,  is  without  form.  The  method  in  wdiich  a 
specific,  organic  state  is  transformed  into  a  sensation,  or  in 
which  a  volition  in  turn  is  converted  into  an  action,  is  be- 
yond the  terms  of  experience.  So,  indeed,  is  all  transfer 
of  forces  in  physics. 

The  fourth  point  is  the  extent  to  which  the  primitive 
activity  of  the  mind  is  enlarged  by  experience.  The  first 
full  discussion  of  this  topic  we  owe  to  Bishop  Berkeley. 
The  importance  attached  to  this  secondary  element  in  per- 
ception, these  inclosed  judgments,  has  been  on  the  increase 
since  his  time.  The  organic  content,  or  rather  the  activity 
of  mind  incident  to  tliis  content,  is  the  dry  sponge  which 
absorbs  the  inferences  of  experience,  is  expanded  and  made 
flexible  and  serviceable  by  them.  There  is  a  tendency  to 
refer  these  judgments  in  the  man  as  in  the  animal  largely 
to  instinctive  action  and  to  inheritance.  As  the  infant  and 
the  child  are  manifestly  for  a  long  period  employed  in  form- 


112  INTELLECT. 

ing  these  judgments,  and  as  the  jDrocess  accompanies  us  all 
the  way  through  life,  we  see  but  little  occasion  to  ascribe 
their  presence  to  a  blind,  organic  tendency.  Moreover, 
such  a  movement  would  not  prepare  the  way  for  conscious, 
rational  action,  would  not  put  the  mind  in  possession  of 
itself,  but  would  tend  in  action  to  anticipate  order,  and  so 
prevent  such  a  result. 

The  fifth  consideration  is  the  nature  and  certainty  of 
our  knowledge  of  the  internal  and  external  world.  The 
mind  under  any  view  has  the  most  immediate  knowledge  of 
its  .  own :  impressions.  The  interior  phenomenal  world  is 
necessarily  known  to  it.  Here  knowledge  gathers  its  pri- 
mary force.  The  chief  difficulty  is  found  in  the  relation  of 
this  knowledge  to  real  being,  internal  or  external.  The 
dependence  seems  to  us  simple.  We  believe,  with  Des- 
cartes, that  under  the  action  of  causation  we  infer  decisively 
and  correctly  external  agents  from  fixed,  involuntary  im- 
pressions. The  reality  and  relations  of  these  external 
causes  are  more  and  more  disclosed  to  us  by  perception 
with  its  enlarging  judgments,  and  are  more  and  more  com- 
pletely clothed  with  the  phenomenal  impressions  in  the 
mind  which  are  attributed  to  them.  This  knowledsce  of 
causes  in  their  effects  is  all  the  knowledge  that  is  proper  to 
them,  and  the  effort  to  resolve  the  cause  itself  into  a  second 
phenomenon,  serves  only  to  push  the  cause  one  step  farther 
back.  In  repeated  instances  this  process,  by  wdiich  the 
mind  habilitates  the  underlying  reality  with  its  appropriate 
phenomena,  has,  in  the  case  of  vision  gained  in  later  years, 
passed  on  under  observation.  There  is  no  element  of  real 
doubt  in  this  knowledge  ;  its  links  are  close  and  sufficient ; 
its  chief  mysteries  lie,  as  is  wont  to  be  the  case,  in  first 
terms,  in  the  perceptive  and  sensational  elements,  and  in  the 
completeness  with  which  these  are  made  objective.  This 
last  point  is  abundantly  illustrated  by  facts  like  those  of 


PERCEPTION.  113 

sketcliing  and  painting.  A  few  lines,  as  of  a  human  face, 
on  a  plain  surface,  give  us  at  once,  under  our  construc- 
tive powers,  form,  substance,  distance,  character ;  objective 
throughout  and  thoroughly  realized. 

Yet  around  this  relation  of  the  mental  impressions  to 
the  underlying  facts,  most  of  the  divisions  and  denials  of 
philosophy  have  sprung  up,  chiefly  because  the  intuitive 
presence  and  the  validity  of  the  notion  of  causation  have 
been  overlooked,  the  firm  yet  inscrutable  line  between 
physical  and  mental  facts  been  lost,  and  kinds  of  knowledge 
impossible  from  the  nature  of  the  case  been  sought  after. 
If  we  accept  these  data,  the  separate,  unmistakable  charac- 
ter of  mental  phenomena,  the  soundness  of  our  intuitions, 
and  the  distinct,  incomparable  forms  of  knowledge,  there  is 
very  little  ground  for  discussion.  What  the  mind  directly 
knows  must  be  purely  mental,  for  a  fact  becomes  mental,  is 
mental,  by  virtue  of  being  found  in  consciousness.  What 
it  indirectly  knows  are  the  phenomena  of  space,  and  those 
of  other  minds,  both  interpreted  by  its  own  experience; 
and  those  permanent,  efficient  j)Owers  which  underlie  phe- 
nomena, known  only  as  forces  or  causes,  and  not  at  all  as 
appearances  or  effects.  Facts  that  are  placed  in  any  other 
region  than  space  and  consciousness,  or  are  to  be  known  in 
any  other  way  than  directly  as  phenomena  or  indirectly  as 
causes,  are  hopelessly  unknowable,  are  so  far  chaotic  as  to 
lack  any  formative  idea  to  define  them,  any  condition  of 
thought  under  which  to  appear. 

The  impressions  in  the  mind  cannot  be  mistaken  be- 
cause they  are  pervaded  by  consciousness ;  the  underlying 
and  the  outside  facts  which  they  disclose  cannot  be  vision- 
ary, for  all  the  intuitions  and  judgments  of  the  mind  vouch 
for  them.  The  external  world  is  known  as  the  certain 
cause  of  the  fixed  impressions  which  shadow  it  forth  in  the 
mind,  and  this  knowledge  is  the  exact  equivalent  of  that 


114  INTELLECT. 

wliicli  we  have  of  ourselves  as  real  persons.  We  allow  no 
pre-eminence  of  one  branch  of  knowledge  over  another; 
the  percejition  and  the  inferences  are  equally  decisive  in 
reference  to  that  which  thej  disclose,  and  are  inextricably 
blended. 

From  confusion  at  this  point  has  arisen  the  affirmation 
that  all  our  knowledge  is  relative.  By  this  is  meant,  that 
there  is  ever  present  an  unmeasuredj  subjective  element 
which  separates  the  convictions  of  each  person  from  those 
of  his  neighbor,  and  so  from  absolute  truth.  This  assertion 
has  meaning  and  force  in  reference  to  sensations,  less  in  ref- 
erence to  perceptions,  and  none  in  reference  to  intuitions, 
and  the  conclusions  drawn  from  them.  The  sensation  is 
more  completely,  the  perception  less  completely,  involved 
in  a  physical,  organic  state ;  and  all  we  can  say  concern- 
ing this  organic  element  is,  that  it,  under  given  conditions, 
yields  in  the  mind  certain  impressions.  The  identity  of 
the  action  of  organs  in  different  persons  we  cannot  affirm, 
nor  what  forces  are  aside  from  the  organs  they  affect. 
This  relative  knowledge,  however,  is  real,  and  sufficient  for 
all  its  purposes.  We  have  no  occasion  to  know  matter  save 
as  the  hxed  causes  of  certain  effects,  and  that  its  effects  in 
us  are  kindred  to  those  in  others.  To  inquire  whether 
matter  is  like  its  effects,  or  what  it  is  aside  from  its  ef- 
fects, are  questions  out  of  order  under  our  organic  intel- 
lectual law.  The  physical  element  makes  the  knowledge 
of  the  senses  relative  without  affecting  its  value.  But  the 
intuitions  with  their  inferences  have  no  conditional,  physi- 
cal element.  The  knowledge  of  relations  is  pure  knowl- 
edge, identical  knowledge,  in  all.  This  is  obvious  in 
mathematics,  in  logic,  in  all  pure  science.  The  mind  is  as 
capable  of  absolute  as  of  relative  knowledge,  of  a  move- 
ment that  goes  out  from  itself  in  general  principles,  as  of 
one  that  comes  into  it  as  specific  facts.     Its  relative  knowl- 


RELATIVE  KNOWLEDGE.  115 

edge  is  of  substances  in  their  properties,  those  interactions 
by  which  they  define  each  other ;  its  absohite  knowledge  is 
one  of  forms,  of  regulative  principles,  which  neither  mat- 
ter nor  mind  can  escape.  This  fundamental  difference  be- 
tween intuitive  and  sensational  knowledge,  no  analysis  has 
been  able  to  break  down  or  obscure.  Truths  of  the  higher 
mathematics  rise  quite  above  experience,  and  come  at  once 
w^itli  irresistible  authority  to  it.  It  is  strange  that  Hamil- 
ton should  give  us  a  direct  knowledge  of  matter,  and  yet 
reojard  all  knowleds^e  as  relative. 

This  assertion,  that  all  our  knowledge  is  relative,  has 
gained  great  currency  ;  yet  w^e  can  look  on  it  only  as  one 
of  those  false  deductions  which  have  followed  the  empiri- 
cal philosoj^hy,  and  are  fitted  to  sustain  it.  If  all  our 
knowledge  comes  from  experience,  it  is  all  tainted  by  the 
cpiality  of  the  senses,  and  hence  is  all  relative  to  their  forms 
and  powers  of  discrimination.  Pure  knowing,  pure  in  its 
object,  and  pure  in  its  subjective  process,  becomes  impossi- 
ble. Yet  direct  insight  into  abstract  relations  is  evidently 
of  this  character,  and  evinces  its  nature  by  the  uniformity 
and  force  of  the  conclusions  incident  to  it.  Empirical 
philosophy  has  no  way  of  explaining  axiomatic  truth  and 
demonstrative  reasoning.  The  reference  of  the  necessity 
of  these  convictions  to  inheritance  is  most  lame.  They 
pertain  to  abstract  truths  often  very  unfamiliar,  and  take 
effect  at  once  in  connection  with  cpiite  novel  statements. 
Matters  of  experience  under  the  daily  observation  of  many 
generations  —  as  the  rising  of  the  sun,  the  blackness  of 
crows,  the  whiteness  of  swans,  carry  with  them  by  inheri- 
tance or  otherwise  no  such  necessity.  That  the  truth  of 
mathematics  can  be  no  other  than  they  are,  is  a  conviction 
that  the  mind  takes  w^ith  it  to  the  study  of  nature,  not  one 
that  it  derives  from  nature.  Of  all  branches  of  knowledii^e 
mathematics  may  advance  most  rapidly,  and  divorce  itself 


116  INTELLECT. 

most  completely  from  previous  experience.  This  power  of 
tlie  mind  to  deal  with  abstract  relations,  and  push  them 
entirely  in  advance  of  physical  inquiry,  belongs  to  it  as 
possessed  of  pure  insight.  The  abstractions  of  sensation,  as 
greenness,  sweetness,  hardness,  are  accompanied  by  no  cor- 
responding sweep  of  thought,  and  give  no  particular  mas- 
tery. The  abstractions  of  experience  can  carry  no  more 
force  than  the  experience  itself. 

The  complete  identity  of  mathematical  truths  in  differ- 
ent minds,  and  this  from  their  very  first  announcement,  is 
a  sufficient  proof  of  their  absolute  character.  They  are 
plainly  not  modified  by  any  special  qualities  of  special 
forms  of  intelligence ;  and  they  stand,  in  this  particular,  in 
contrast  with  all  empirical  knowledge. 

§  9.  A  farther  error  connected  with  the  doctrine  of 
direct  perception  is  the  division  of  the  qualities  of  matter 
into  primary  and  secondary.  The  list  of  primary  qualities 
is  differently  made  out  by  different  ^Dhilosopliers.  Exten- 
sion and  solidity  are  generally  recognized  as  chief  among 
them.  The  criteria  of  these  qualities  as  compared  with 
secondary  qualities  are,  that  matter  can  not  exist  without 
them,  and,  especially  urged  by  Hamilton,  that  in  the  pri- 
mary qualities  perception  is  peculiarly  direct  and  clear ; 
"  the  objective  element  predominates,"  "  matter  is  known 
as  principal  in  its  relation  to  mind."  The  distinction  be- 
tween primary  and  secondary  qualities  seems  on  these  tests 
to  be  untenable,  and  to  arise  from  an  oversight  of  those 
necessary  intuitive  ideas  involved  in  the  very  existence  of 
matter. 

Extension  should  not  be  regarded  as  a  property  of  mat- 
ter, and  if  so  regarded  is  not,  in  the  form  in  which  it  exists, 
a  necessary  property.  Ko  portion  of  matter  is  necessarily 
of  one  size  rather  than  another.  The  actual  quality  of  ex- 
tension, if  it  is  to  be  so  termed,  is  as  variable  as  any  other 


PRIM  ART  QUALITIES.  117 

quality.  The  only  universality,  in  tliis  attribute  more  than 
in  other  attributes  of  matter  is  found  in  the  fact,  tliat  all 
matter  must  exist  in  space,  and  hence  under  the  one  form 
of  extension.  Space,  extension,  is  a  necessary  condition  of 
matter.  Without  it,  those  qualities,  properly  so  called, 
which  constitute  matter,  cannot  have  a  being.  It  is  in- 
volved in  their  manifestations,  that  they  occupy  some  por- 
tion of  space,  and  this  primary  quality,  so  called,  is  only  this 
essential  condition  for  the  existence  of  matter.  We  might 
as  well  say  that  duration  is  a  quality  of  matter,  as  to  say 
that  extension  is  such  a  quality ;  since  no  form  of  matter 
can  exist  without  occupying  some  period  of  time,  more  or 

less. 

Nor  is  the  second  criterion  any  more  satisfactory  in  its 
application.  If  there  is  any  one  direction  in  which  the 
mind  acts  with  a  sense  of  establishing  and  defining  its  own 
data,  it  is  this  of  extension.  Odor,  taste,  color,  are  what 
they  are,  directly,  through  the  nature  of  the  outside  cause  ; 
but  the  form  of  a  body  is  arrived  at  through  meagre  grounds 
of  judgment  unfolded  by  the  enlargement  and  corrections 
of  protracted  experience  ;  while  the  notion  under  which 
alone  this  evolution  can  proceed,  that  of  space,  is  furnished 
entirely  by  the  mind.  Perception,  instead  of  being  un- 
usually direct  and  immediate  in  extension,  is  more  than 
elsewhere  indirect  and  enlarged  by  inference. 

Solidity,  as  a  primary  quality,  is  open  to  a  like  form  of 
criticism.  That  which,  must  in  this  discussion  be  under- 
stood by  solidity,  is  very  different  from  the  notion  which 
the  word  ordinarily  conveys ;  it  is  the  impossibility  of  com- 
plete compression,  complete  displacement.  A  gas  is  in  this 
sense  as  maicli  a  solid  as  a  piece  of  steel,  since,  when  prop- 
erly confined  in  a  cylinder,  it  is  found  to  exclude  the  piston 
as  certainly  as  the  most  solid  substance.  Compression  can- 
not proceed  to  all  lengths.     Eesistance  accompanies  pres- 


118  INTELLECT. 

sure,  and  an  increased  and  insuperable  resistance  remains 
as  the  final  result.  Without  this  capability  of  occupying 
space  to  some  sense  we  withhold  the  appellation  of  matter. 
Here,  again,  any  given  degree  of  incompressibility  is  not 
necessary  to  matter,  but  only  that  there  should  be  some 
decree  of  it,  and  some  degree  of  incomj^ressibility  is  neces- 
sary as  involved  in  this  method  of  occupying  space.  The 
general  necessity,  then,  is  evolved  from  this  general  condi- 
tion of  the  existence  and  recognition  of  matter,  that  it  shall 
be  a  space-filling  force,  that  it  shall  have,  in  the  external 
world,  a  permanent  substratum  to  its  phenomena. 

As  the  necessary  connection  of  extension  with  matter 
arises  from  the  idea  of  space,  so  that  of  solidity  arises  from 
the  occupation  of  space,  the  ideal  of  a  local,  fixed  cause,  the 
source  of  fixed  phenomena.  That  the  forces  which  lie  at 
the  basis  of  matter  may  in  some  cases  penetrate  each  other, 
as  in  the  union  of  two  gases,  and  may  in  others  entirely  ex- 
clude each  other,  as  in  the  contact  of  solids,  are  facts  to  be 
learned  by  experience.  The  very  notion  of  matter,  how- 
ever, is  that  it  involves  a  local  cause  or  force,  and  if  a  cause 
or  force,  that  it  has  some  means  of  showing  itself  as  a  force. 

If  it  be  said  that  the  distinction  between  primary  and 
secondary  qualities  is  valid,  since  solidity  necessarily  in- 
volves force,  the  substratum  of  matter  ;  answer  is  made  that 
no  specific  form  of  force  is  necessary  to  matter,  but  only 
some  form  of  force,  and  that  this  is  as  necessary  to  color,  to 
flavor,  to  odor,  when  these  are  present,  as  to  solidity  when 
this  is  shown.  Solidity  has  no  permanent  existence  any 
more  than  odor  or  color,  demands  like  them  for  its  manifes- 
tation appropriate  conditions,  and  does  no  more  than  they 
do,  in  demanding  as  a  condition  an  external  force.  If,  then, 
we  speak  of  the  effects  matter  is  capable  of  producing  as 
the  qualities  of  that  matter,  odor,  resistance  are  such  quali- 
ties, but  neither  of  them  are  constant ;  botli  are  occasional, 


PRIMARY  QUALITIES.  119 

and  conditioned  to  fitting  circumstances ;  both  of  tliem  im- 
ply that  which  is  permanent  and  necessary.  From  taste  as 
from  touch,  we  may  infer  an  external,  local  cause,  a  cause 
that  must  hence  occupy  space,  be  a  space-filling  force,  at 
least  to  one  sense,  which  is  the  entire  conclusion  derivable 
from  resistance. 

If  it  be  said  that  the  circumstances  are  in  all  cases  pos- 
sible under  which  the  quality  of  solidity  may  be  drawn 
out,  while  those  which  disclose  odor  are  peculiar  to  a  few 
bodies,  w^e  answer,  this  is  a  question  of  experience,  is  far 
from  being  proved,  as  in  the  case  of  ether,  and,  if  estab- 
lished, could  bring  with  it  no  sense  of  necessity,  differenc- 
ing the  two  cases.  Bodies  which  yield  no  ojdor  under  one 
form,  may  under  another.  Odor  seems  to  involve  chemi- 
cal change,  and  it  might  be  found  that  every  substance 
would  yield  it  under  fitting  chemical  conditions.  This  is  a 
question  to  be  decided  by  protracted  and  varied  experience, 
and  however  decided,  could  only  be  the  ground  of  an  em- 
pirical, and  not  of  a  necessary  division  of  qualities. 

Take  such  a  secondary  quality  as  that  of  color.  It 
seems  antecedently  probable,  that  all  bodies  have  color. 
Some  gases  are  apparently  colorless,  but  so  is  the  atmos- 
phere in  small  volumes.  Experience  and  theory  would  lead 
us  to  expect  that  the  most  diffused  force  in  sufficient  vol- 
ume would  affect  the  transmission  of  light. 

These  criteria,  then,  cannot  be  the  sufficient  and  pre- 
vailing ground  of  this  distinction,  but  we  must  look  farther 
for  something  thought  to  inhere  in  the  very  nature  of  mat- 
ter, necessary  to  it  and  betrayed  by  every  primary  quality. 
This  necessary  something  we  accept,  and  believe  the  notion 
of  it  to  arise  under  the  intuitive  idea  of  cause  and  effect ; 
but  also  believe,  that  this  notion  is  called  forth,  as  certainly 
by  odor,  by  color,  by  taste,  as  by  pressure  ;  and  that  we  in- 
evitably put  back  of  each  of  these  subjective  effects,  a  per 


120  INTELLECT. 

manent  force,  occupying  space,  called  matter.  Tnis  per- 
manent force  is  necessary  to  the  notion  of  matter,  and  is  as 
appropriatelj^  reached  by  one  sense  as  by  another,  by  one 
effect  as  by  another ;  indeed,  is  indicated  by  any  sensation 
which  betrays  an  external  world.  The  qualities  which  find 
entrance  through  one  organ,  have  no  more  right  to  be  called 
primary,  that  is  fundamental,  than  those  w^hich  enter  at 
another.  If  the  sense  of  muscular  effort  were  wanting,  we 
might  still  be  able  to  arrive  at  the  idea  of  matter ;  though 
its  alleged  primary  quality  should  not  be  directly  recogniz- 
able by  us.  We  should  then  understand  color  and  flavor 
as  indications  of  a  local  force,  apprehensible  by  sight  and 
taste.  • 

The  second  criterion  more  signally  fails  than  the  first  in 
its  application  to  solidity.  Far  from  matter's  coming  most 
directly  and  fully  in  contact  with  mind  through  solidity,  in 
many  instances  it  is  only  in  a  secondary,  inferential  way, 
that  this  quality  is  at  all  arrived  at.  A  gas  makes  no  im- 
pression on  the  muscular  system,  offers  no  obstacle  to  move- 
ment, calls  forth  no  sense  of  resistance,  till  closely  confined  ; 
and  then  by  that  very  confinement  is  put  beyond  direct 
contact  with  any  organ  of  sense.  We  are  left  to  infer  the 
solidity  of  gases,  from  the  fact  that  the  piston  cannot,  in 
the  cylinder  containing  them,  be  forced  perfectly  down  to 
its  bed,  and  recoils  as  the  hand  is  lifted.  Percej^tion  is  not 
more  immediate  and  full  here  than  elsewhere ;  on  the  con- 
trary, there  is  no  perception  of  the  point  at  issue,  the  solid- 
ity of  the  gas,  but  only  a  judgment  to  that  effect.  Even 
the  solidity  of  a  solid  directly  handled  is  inferred  from  the 
muscular  effort  expended  in  the  attempt  to  crush  it,  and 
only  admits  of  an  estimate  by  an  indirect  method. 

This  doctrine  of  primary  and  secondary  qualities,  main- 
tained by  so  large  a  variety  of  philosophers,  is  of  interest, 
chiefly  from  the  way  in  which  it  has  grown  out  of  the 


PRIMARY  QUALITIES.  121 

errors,  or  betrays  the  errors,  held  by  them ;  and  yet  more 
from  the  indication  it  gives  of  an  unconscious  influence  of 
truths  not  formally  recognized.  Thus,  Locke  speaks  of  the 
"inseparable"  nature  of  extension  as  a  quality  of  matter, 
while  declining  to  accept  the  antecedent  necessity  of  space 
as  a  condition  of  matter,  and  a  knowleds^e  of  matter.  Here- 
in  he  grants  to  matter  the  necessity  which  he  has  denied  to 
mind ;  whereas  by  necessity  can  only  be  meant  something 
which  the  mind  inevitably  aflirms,  a  union  of  things  which 
it  sees  to  be  indissoluble.  IsTo  matter  how  often  things  are 
practically  connected,  unless  the  mind  can  so  far  penetrate 
that  connection  as  to  see  the  one  to  be  involved  in  the 
other,  their  dependence  would  not  seem  to  be  a  necessary 
one.  Yet  this  father  of  sensationalism  speaks  of  insepara- 
ble qualities,  when  experience  in  many  cases  had  neither 
by  sight  nor  in  any  way  tested  their  existence.  Why  this 
judgment  of  universal,  of  necessary  extension  and  solidity  ? 
Because  of  a  conviction  latent  in  the  mind  through  its  in- 
tuitive ideas,  a  conviction  independent  of  the  complete  ex- 
pansion of  experience. 

Hamilton,  again,  looking  at  this  division  of  qualities 
through  the  doctrine  of  direct  perception,  jumps  at  the  con- 
clusion that  primary  qualities  are  those  more  immediately 
revealed,  whereas  inquiry  shows  that  solidity,  the  most  un- 
deniable of  them,  is  often  wholly  unapproachable  to  any 
form  of  direct  perception,  and  is  arrived  at  by  reasonings 
from  sensations  which  arise  indirectly  from  the  object  of 
experiment.  The  staff  so  quickly  clutched  at  has  become 
a  broken  reed.  Thus  philosophers  furnish  undesigned  and 
most  valuable  proof  to  an  adverse  theory,  by  recognizing 
and  striving  to  use  in  a  disguised  form  the  truths  which  it 
proclaims,  and  assigns  their  true  position.  The  acknowl- 
edged necessity  of  primary  qualities  is  not  in  t/iem^  but  in 
that  intuitive  action  of  the  mind  which   they  call  forth. 


122  im^ELLECT. 

ISTecessitj,  wliicli  every  philosopher  seems  ready  to  mtro- 
duce  at  some  point,  is  born  not  of  experience,  but  of  men's 
thoughts  ;  not  of  matter,  but  of  mind. 

We  briefly  sum  up  the  conchisions  arrived  at.  Exten- 
sion is  not  a  quality  of  matter,  but  its  antecedent  condition, 
and  owes  the  sense  of  necessity  that  accompanies  it  to  the 
necessary  idea  of  space.  The  same  reason  that  makes  it, 
would  make  duration  also,  a  quality  of  matter.  The  actual 
form  or  extension  of  bodies  is  contingent  and  inferential. 
Solidity,  or  the  power  of  exclusion,  is  a  quality  of  matter, 
and  owes  its  necessity  to  our  idea  of  the  nature  of  matter, 
an  idea  arising  under  the  notions  of  space  and  of  cause.  It 
differs  not  from  odor,  color  in  implying  a  permanent  sub- 
stratum. Every  quality  of  matter,  every  sensation  and 
perception  involve  this,  though  they  mutually  deepen  and 
confirm  it.  Solidity,  a  sense  of  resistance,  is  felt  to  be 
more  necessarily  involved  in  matter  than  odor  and  taste, 
because,  in  experience,  we  almost  exclusively  use  this  con- 
stant and  convenient  test  of  its  presence.  This,  however, 
is  an  empirical  distinction,  arising  from  the  nature  of  one 
senses,  of  an  uncertain  character,  and  of  no  particular  im- 
portance. The  distinction  then  of  primary  qualities,  wdiile 
involving  important  points  in  philosophy,  in  its  common 
form  breaks  down.  These  qualities  are  not  more  directly 
perceived  than  other  qualities;  they  are  not  in  contrast 
with  them  nor  known  to  be  more  necessary.  If  we  reason 
from  the  quality  to  the  substratum,  each  implies  this,  and 
the  necessity  is  common  and  complete.  If  we  reason  from 
the  substratum  to  its  qualities,  no  individual  quality  is  seen 
to  be  necessary,  neither  any  kind  nor  class  of  qualities  as 
hardness,  color.  "We  can  not  so  penetrate  the  nature  of  the 
cause  as  to  antecedently  declare  what  its  action  will  be. 
Tlie  greater  constancy  of  one  quality  over  another  is  learned 
by  experience ;  the  intrinsic  necessity  of  that  constancy,  if 


CONSCIOUSNESS.  123 

there  be  any,  is  nnperceivcd.  A  local  substance  perfectly 
penetrable,  yet  Laving  odor,  color,  and  flavor,  would  doubt- 
less be  regarded  by  us  as  matter. 

§  10.  Consciousness,  or  tlie  inner  sense,  the  remaining 
means  of  a  direct  knowledge  of  phenomena,  requires  but 
brief  notice.  Our  chief  difhculty  in  conceiving  this  source 
of  knowledge,  and  in  speaking  of  it,  is  found  in  the  lan- 
guage we  are  compelled  to  employ,  and  the  confusion 
already  occasioned  by  it.  Self-consciousness,  or  conscious- 
ness, or  the  inner  sense,  is  not  a  method  of  the  mind's  ac- 
tion, is  not  a  faculty  of  perception.  These  words  are  used 
by  us  simply  to  express  the  fact  that  the  mind  knows  what 
it  does;  that  its  states,  acts,  experiences,  are  necessarily 
open  to  itself,  not  by  any  direct  effort  of  attention  on  its 
part,  but  by  virtue  of  the  very  fact  that  they  are  its  own 
states.  We  cannot  readily  speak  of  this  knowledge  which 
the  mind  has  of  its  own  phases  of  activity  without  seeming 
to  imply  more  than  we  intend ;  to  imply  an  explicit  form, 
or  faculty,  or  means  of  knowing.  What  we  wish  to  draw 
attention  to,  as  a  second  source  of  phenomenal  matter,  is 
the  familiarity  of  the  mind  with  its  own  thoughts,  feelings, 
volitions;  and  hence  its  power  through  memory  to  make 
them  objects  of  attention,  analysis,  inquiry.  By  these  pro- 
cesses primarily  is  philosophy  established,  the  phenomena 
of  mind  separated  into  their  elements,  and  the  laws  of 
their  combination  discovered.  Consciousness  furnishes  only 
the  bare  data  of  mental  facts,  the  perceptions  or  thoughts 
present,  and  is  not  in  the  least  responsible  for  their  accu- 
racy. Its  verity  is  only  involved  in  rendering  them  as  they 
are,  that  is,  as  they  lie  in  the  mind.  Whether  we  perceive 
what  we  think  we  perceive,  whether  we  know  what  we 
think  we  know,  that  is,  the  objective  justness  of  our  mental 
action,  these  are  quite  different  inquiries.  The  subjective 
state  is  all  that  is  revealed  in  consciousness,   and  this  is 


124:  INTELLECT. 

revealed  by  the  very  nature  of  mind.  Concerning  it,  there 
is  no  opportunity  for  scepticism  in  the  very  moment  of  its 
transpiring ;  later  the  question  is  one  of  memory. 

Consciousness  gives  internal  phenomena,  perception 
gives  external  phenomena.  Did  not  perception  constantly 
involve  inference,  did  it  not  reach  the  external  world 
through  the  reflective  force  of  the  mind,  perception  and 
consciousness  would  give  but  one  and  the  same  set  of  data, 
and  the  distinction -would  disappear. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

The    Understanding. 

§  1.  The  nnderstanding  includes  all  those  mental  activ- 
ities by  wliich  the  data  of  sense  and  reason  are  wrought 
into  knowledge.    They  are  memory,  imagination,  and  judg- 
ment.    The  first  condition  of   rational  activity  is  percep- 
tion, some  object  given  to  the  mind  towards  which  it  may 
be  moved,  with  which  it  may  occupy  itself.     The  second 
essential  condition  is  memory,  by  which  perceptions  gain 
continuity,  are  united  into  one  experience,  are  made  ready 
to  be  woven  into  the  fabric  of  belief.     Without  memory 
our  conscious  states  would  be   separate,  incommunicable, 
save  by  direct  sequence,  with  no  more  reciprocal  play,  unity, 
and  growth  than  belong  to  particles  of  sand.     Memory  is 
involved  in  the  coherence  of  intellectual  life,  as  much  as 
the  constant  interaction  of  its  organs  is  included  in  physi- 
cal life.     Memory  is  the  power  of  recalling  the  phenomena 
of  consciousness.     The  experiences  of  the  past  are  restored 
to   the   mind  by  this  faculty,  with  a  recognition  of   their 
previous  existence.     Like  all  primitive  powers,  it  has  its 
own  simple,  unique  action,  explained  only  by  experience. 
The  words   retaining,  recalling,  may,   through  the  force 
they  have  acquired  in  physical  connections,   suggest  the 
idea  that  some  impression  of  the  objects  remembered  is 
held  in  the  mind,  and  again  restored  to  its  observation ;  or 
that  some  trace  or  result  of  the  first  act  remains  with  the 
mind,  waiting  renewal  in  memory.     Indeed,  looking  more 
at  the  material  suggestions  of  mental  phenomena,  than  at 


126  UNDERSTANDING. 

the  simple,  primitive  character  of  the  act  of  recollection 
itself,  some  have  inquired,  Whether  the  very  thing  first 
known  is  the  object  of  memory,  or  whether  the  mind  is 
occupied  with  some  image  of  it  ?  We  might  as  well  in- 
quire Whether  the  artist's  conception  of  a  painting  is  the 
very  painting  itself,  or  an  image  of  it  ?  It  is  certainly  not 
the  first,  nor  even  the  second  in  any  other  than  a  figurative 
sense.  AVhen  I  say  that  I  recollect  an  event,  my  language 
is  about  as  intelligible  as  it  can  be  made.  There  is  in  it 
a  direct  appeal  to  the  interpretation  of  every  one's  expe- 
rience, furnishing  like  simple,  original  acts.  In  memory  a 
new  impression  of  the  event  is  present,  accompanied  with  a 
knowledge  of  its  previous  presence.  It  is  merely  a  futile 
struggle  with  physical  images,  the  misleading  effect  of 
physical  analogies,  which  prompt  us  to  inquire,  w^th  an 
analysis  more  cunning  than  cognizant  of  the  true  condi- 
tions of  mental  ex2:)erience,  Whether,  as  our  language  seems 
to  imply,  we  actually  remember  the  very  object  that  has 
passed  away,  or  whether  some  impression  of  it  is  restored 
to  us  ?  Each  act  of  memory  is  a  primitive  act,  eflicient  in 
itself  for  its  own  independent  and  peculiar  end  ;  is,  more- 
over, purely  subjective,  though  often  involving  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  objective.  Memory  is  not  a  repeated  experi- 
ence ;  it  is  the  cognizance  of  a  previous  experience  without 
repetition.  The  renewal  of  awakened  action  in  the  brain, 
if  it  could  be  shown  to  accompany  recollection,  would  be 
no  explanation  of  it.  Of  a  like  character  are  all  the  expla- 
nations of  memory,  which  spring  from  purely  physiologi- 
cal facts.  Whatever  may  be  the  effect  of  thinking  on  the 
brain,  the  connection  of  these  physical  changes  in  a  physi- 
cal agent  with  the  act  of  memory  is  wholly  unintelligible. 
I  might  as  w^ell  explain  the  recollection  of  a  sword- wound 
by  the  presence  of  a  scar  on  the  body,  as  by  any  changes 
effected  at  the  time  in  the  brain  by  the  suffering  then  ex- 


MEMORY.  127 

perienced.     That  a  scar  constitutes  memory,  is  as  apprehen- 
sible as  that  a  modification  of  a  nervons  tissue  is  memory. 
It  is  a  fact,  that  memory,  like  other  intellectual  powers,  is 
dependent  for  its  exercise  on  the  conditions  of  the  brain, 
but  why,  or  how  dependent,  are  queries  beyond  the  circle 
of   knowledge.     The  vital  play  of  nervous  changes  along 
nervous  lines  is  one  thing,  the  action  of  the  mind  a  totally 
different  thing.     The  one  is  learned  as  an  outside  fact  by 
outside  observations,  the  other  as  an  inside  fact   by   con- 
sciousness.    The  synchronism  of  the  two  is  an  interesting 
point,  but  one,  for  the  present,  barren  in  strict  philosophy. 
That   memory  is   more   dependent  than   other   mental 
powers  on  physical  states  is  generally  believed,  though  we 
may  be  easily  deceived  in  the  grounds  of  this  judgment. 
Memory  is  readily  and  quickly  tested  in  its  strength.     A 
straightforward,   categorical   question  betrays   at   once    its 
weakness.      We  observe,  therefore,   failure  at  this   point, 
more  certainly  than  at  others.     In  moments  of  weariness 
the  memory  fails  us,  but  so,  evidently,  does  the  judgment. 
Obstacles  seem  disproportionately  great,  the  occasions   of 
fear  unusual  and  pressing.     In  old  age,  memory  is  said  to 
be  the  first  faculty  that  shows  decay ;  yet  the  old  man,  w^ith- 
drawn  from  active  life,  naturally  first   discovers  his  failure 
here.     It  requires  occasions  of   judgment  to   disclose   the 
deficiency  of  judgment  to  others,  while  to  ourselves,  these 
failures  are  not  betrayed  from  the  very  fact  that  the  judg- 
ment, as  w^eak,  does  not  fully  detect  its  own  weakness.     On 
the  other  hand,  a  dozen  events  every  day  expose  inevitably 
and  unmistakably  the  defects  of  memory.     Moreover,  the 
things  chiefiy  forgotten  are  those  of  recent  occurrence,  a  fact 
accounted  for  by  the  want  of  strong  feeling,  clear  perception, 
and  enersretic  attention.     Diseases  that  weaken  the  memory 
by  the  destruction  of  brain-tissue,  are  especially  unfavorable 
to  the  recollection  of  events  that  occurred  in  the  periods  im- 


128  UNDERSTANDING. 

mediately  previous  to  the  sickness.  Kemote  events  may  be 
retained  witli  distinctness,  while  those  of  intervening  years 
are  wiped  awa}^  AYhen  memory  is  restored,  its  power  re- 
turns in  the  reverse  order.  The  more  remote  events  are 
first  recalled.  A  simple  waste  of  tissue  would  seem  to  be 
liable  to  interfere  with  one  set  of  relations  as  quickly  as 
with  another.  The  law  of  mind,  however,  that  the  power 
to  retain  imj)ressions  is  proportioned  to  their  first  strength 
and  to  their  reiteration  seems  to  hold  in  this  method  of  res- 
toration. These  facts  go  to  show  that  physiology  is  not 
prepared,  I  will  not  say  to  offer  an  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  memory,  but  even  to  point  out  with  certainty 
and  fulness  the  changes  in  the  brain  coincident  with  the 
changes  of  this  power.  A  general  dependence  of  all  our 
powers  on  the  vigor  of  this,  their  common  instrument,  is  the 
brief  summation  of  its  knowledge.  Language  like  the  fol- 
lowing, conveys  no  intelligible  idea :  "  All  that  has  so  far 
been  said  respecting  the  different  nervous  centres  of  the 
body  cannot  fail  to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  memory 
in  the  nervous  cells  which  lie  scattered  in  the  heart,  in  the 
intestinal  walls,  in  those  that  are  collected  together  in  the 
spinal  cord,  in  the  cells  of  the  sensory  and  motor  ganglia, 
and  in  the  ideational  cells  of  the  cortical  layers  of  the  cere- 
bral hemispheres." — Maudsley^s  Physiology  and  Pathology 
of  the  Mind,  p.  182. 

What  a  famous  stroke  of  explication  —  "ideational 
cells !  "  What  a  liberal  distribution  of  recollection  from 
tlie  sole  of  one's  feet  to  the  crown  of  his  head !  Surely 
forgetful  ness  is  inexcusable  under  such  endowments. 

§  2.  There  are  other  theories  of  memory  not  so  crude  as 
tliese  physiological  ones,  yet  as  deficient  in  proof,  and  rest- 
ing back  almost  equally  though  somewhat  more  subtly  on 
physical  analogies.  Of  this  character  is  that  one  elaborately 
and  repeatedly  enforced  by  Hamilton.     lie  affirms  "  that 


MEMORY.  129 

an  energy  of  mind  being  once  determined,  it  is  natural  that 
it  should  persist,  until  again  annihilated  by  other  causes. 
This  in  fact  would  be  the  case  were  the  mind  merely  pas- 
sive in  the  impression  it  receives  ;  for  it  is  a  universal  law 
of  nature,  that  every  effect  endures  as  long  as  it  is  not 
modified  or  opposed  by  any  other  effect.  But  the  mental 
activity,  the  act  of  knowledge  of  which  I  now  speak,  is 
more  than  this ;  it  is  an  energy  of  the  self -active  power  of 
a  subject,  one  and  indivisible ;  consequently  a  part  of  the 
ego  must  be  detached  or  annihilated,  if  a  cognition  once 
existive  be  again  extinguished.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  prob- 
lem most  difficult  of  solution  is  not  how  a  mental  activity 
endures,  but  how  it  ever  vanishes."  Is  not  this  notion  of 
the  necessary  persistence  of  force  referable  exclusively  to 
physical  forces  ?  What  is  the  proof  of  its  applicability  to 
mental  action  ?  The  facts  of  mind  inquired  into  on  their 
own  basis,  seem  to  indicate  quite  the  opposite  conclusion. 
He  proceeds  :  "  If  it  be  impossible  that  an  energy  of  mind 
that  has  once  been,  should  be  abolished  without  a  lacera- 
tion of  the  vital  unity  of  the  mind,  one  and  indivisible, — 
on  this  supposition,  the  question  arises,  How  can  the  facts 
of  our  self-consciousness  be  brought  to  harmonize  with  this 
statement,  seeing  that  consciousness  proves  to  us  that  cog- 
nitions once  clear  and  vivid  are  forgotten  ?  The  solution 
of  this  problem  is  to  be  sought  for  in  the  theory  of  ob- 
scure or  latent  modifications.  The  disappearance  of  inter- 
nal energies  from  the  view  of  internal  perception  does  not 
warrant  the  conclusion  that  they  no  longer  exist."  "  All 
the  cognitions  which  we  possess,  or  have  possessed,  still 
remain  to  us — the  whole  complement  of  all  our  knowledge 
still  lies  in  our  memory;  but  as  new  cognitions  are  con- 
tinually pressing  in  upon  the  old,  and  continually  taking 
place  along  with  them  among  the  modifications  of  the  ego-; 
the  old  cognitions,  unless  from  time  to  time  refreshed,  and 


130  UNDERSTANDING. 

brouglit  forward,  are  driven  back,  and   become  gradually 
fainter  and  more   obscure.     The  mind  is   only  capable  at 
any  one  moment  of  exerting  a  certain  quantity  or  degree 
of  force.     Tliis  quantity  must,  therefore,  be  divided  among 
the  different  activities,  so  that  each  has  only  a  part,  and  the 
sum  of  force  belonging  to  all  the  several  activities  taken 
together,  is  equal  to  the  quantity  or  degree  of  force  belong- 
ing to  the  vital  activity  of  mind  in  general.     This  obscu- 
ration can  be  conceived  in  eveiy  infinite  degree,  between 
incipient   latescence    and  irrecoverable   latency.     The   ob- 
scure cognition  may  exist  simply  out  of  consciousness,  so 
that  it  can  be  recalled  by  a  common  act  of  reminiscence. 
Again,  it  may  be  impossible  to  recover  it  by  an  act  of  vol- 
untary recollection,  but  some  association  may  revivify  it 
enough  to  make  it  flash  after  a  long  oblivion  into  conscious- 
ness.    Further,  it  may  be  obscured  so  far  that  it  can  only 
be  resuscitated  by  some  morbid  affection  of   the   system; 
or  finally,  it  may  be  absolutely  lost  for  us  in  this  life,  and 
destined  only  for  our  reminiscence  in  the  life  to  come." 

The  view,  whose  salient  points  with  large  omissions  are 
here  indicated,  is  analogical,  is  purely  theoretical,  is  beset 
with  internal  difficulties,  and  is  unable  to  explain  the  phe- 
nomena that  call  it  forth.     (1)   It  is  analogical.     It  assumes 
that  the  laws  of  physical  forces  pervade  mental  facts.     It 
does  not  even  stop  to  inquire  how  far  or  with  what  modifi- 
cations this  diffusion  of  forces  takes  place  in  the  brain.     It 
accepts  at  once  the  principles  of  physics,  as  applicable  in 
the  boldest  way,  to  processes  of  mind.     (2)    It   is  purely 
theoretical,  for  its  alleged  facts  all  lie  in  the  unapproacliable 
region  of  sub-consciousness,  whose  existence  is  not  estab- 
lished,  much  less  the  details  of  its  phenomena.     (3)    It  is 
vexed  with  difficulties  of  its  own,  greater  than  the  difficul- 
ties it  is  brought  forward  to  remove.     It  rests  on  a  physical 
idea  of  force,  but  cannot  consistently  carry  out  that  idea.    If 


MEMORY.  131 

no  force,  no  activity  can  be  lost,  how  shall  an  act  of  mind 
fade  ont  of  consciousness  ?     What  is  this  fading  away,  if  it 
be  not  a  loss  of  force  ?     Or,  again,  if  the  mind  have  but  a 
given  amount  of  force  to  bestow,  and  each  act  takes  a  por- 
tion, how  long  will  it  be  before  its  stock  of  power  will  be 
exhausted  ?     Or,  if  this  power  is  divided  up  into  a  multi- 
plicity of  acts,  and  previous  acts,  therefore,  are  weakened 
in  their  impressions,  does  not  this  imply  a  withdrawal  in 
part  of  activity  from  earlier  actions,  and  if  a  partial  with- 
drawal is  possible,  what  renders  complete  removal  impossi- 
ble ?     Again,  what  is  meant  by  recalling  an  obscure  cogni- 
tion ?     Is  it  simply  infusing  more  power  into  it,  deepening 
the  action  already  present,  or,  is  it  a  new  act  of  mind  by 
which  we  direct  attention  to  it,  and  bring  it  to  the  light  ? 
Must  this  new  act  also,  in  turn,  subsist  forever,  still  farther 
sub-dividing  the  power  of  the  mind  ?     These  and  many  like 
questions  are  pertinent   to   this   semi-physical  theory,  and 
show  it  to  be  unintelligible,  not  to  say  preposterous.     It  has 
no  coherence  and  completeness  in  itself.     (4)   Nor  does  it 
explain  the  difficulties  which  the  facts  of  memory  present, 
and  which  call  it  forth.     Indeed,  these  phenomena  are  every 
way  more  comprehensible  than  the  solution  of  them  thus 
offered.     The  act  of  recollection  still  remains,  and  is  cer- 
tainly no  more  intelligible  because  we  suppose  somewhere, 
in  some  out-of -sight  region  of  the  mind,  is  lurking  a  previous 
act,  which  this  new  one  fastens  upon  and  brings  forward. 
What  relation  do  these  distinct  co-existing  acts,  the  recalling 
and  the  recalled,  the  captor  and  the  captive,  bear  to  each 
other  ?    How  do  they  together  constitute  memory  ?     Recol- 
lection seems  to  be  as  single,  simple  an  effort  of  mind,  as 
perception  or  tliought  in  the  first  instance.     There  is  no  oc- 
casion, because  memory  is  an  act  of  recoUection^  to  put  either 
in  the  mind  or  out  of  the  mind,  in  an  independent  self- exist- 
ent form,  the  exact  thing  recollected.     A  dead  man  can  be 


132  UNDERSTANDING. 

remembered  as  easily  as  a  living  one,  a  defunct  tliouglit  as 
readily  as  one  that  has  not  passed  away.     Indeed,  we  do  not 
see  why  any  other  needs  to  be  recalled.     So  far  as  the  act 
has  not  passed  from  consciousness,  it  calls  for  no  recollec- 
tion ;  so  far  as  it  has,  it  is  lost  to  the  mind,  and  the  power 
to  restore  it  involves  the  whole  mystery.     These  words,  re- 
store, recall,  resuscitate,  are  not  to  be  allowed  to  mislead 
us  by  their  physical  imagery.     The   state  recalled  exists 
anew  in  the  primitive,  simple,  inexplicable  act  of  memory ; 
a  movement  of  mind  as  much  of  its  own  kind,  and  with  its 
own  force,  as  the  first  act  of  perception  ;  and  as  indepen- 
dent, save  that  the  occasion  for  it  is  found  in  the  existence 
of  previous  states  of  consciousness.     If  acts  of  mind  could 
be  shown  to  the  fire-flies  passing  from  light  into  darkness, 
and  darkness  into  light,  with  patient  and  inexhaustible  al- 
ternations, it  might  be  to  the  purpose  ;  but  if  there  must 
still  be  a  distinct  act  of  recollection,  either  to  go  in  search 
of  other  acts  and  restore  them,  or  when  they  are  present  to 
remind  us  of  their  previous  presence,  such  an  act  involves 
the  entire  difficulty,  and  to  be  really  anything,  it  must  be 
a  fresh  handling  of  an  old  topic,  differing  from  the  first  in 
that  the  mind  knows  it  to  be  a  second  state  of  conscious- 
ness, and  subject  to  the  conditions  of  such  a  state.     To  re- 
experience  sensations  and  recollect  them,  are  quite  different 
things.     Much  is  written  concerning  the  last,  which  at  most 
would  be  applicable  to  the  first  only.     Under  this  philoso- 
phy, we  should  be  able  neither  to  distinguish  between  (1) 
the  lingering  of  perception  in  an  irritable  organ  and  mem- 
ory ;  nor  (2)  between  memory  and  repeated  perception.     A 
peculiar,  primitive  power  is  present  in  memory  as  in  every 
other  act  of  mind,  and  as  a  simple  act,  it  admits  and  calls 
for  no  explanation.     To  foist  on  such  states  of  conscious- 
ness, ultimate  and  complete  in  themselves,  conjectural  an- 
alogical explanations,  is  to  make  the  simple  and  plain,  com- 


ASSOCIATION,  133 

plex  and  obscure,  is  to  darken  counsel  with  words.  If  we 
would  explain  memory  by  its  own  facts,  it  would  be  our 
true  empiricism.  To  create  difficulties  by  the  introduction 
of  j^hysical  analogies  into  a  field  alien  to  them,  and  to  seek 
their  explication  by  a  farther  importation  of  imaginery 
states  is  a  palpable  violation  of  the  principle  of  original, 
simple  induction  in  each  department  of  inquiry.  It  is  a 
most  vicious  a  jpriori  method,  disguised  under  the  form  of 
empirical  investigation. 

§  3.  We  need  to  distinguish  memory  from  certain 
things  w^ith  wdiich  it  is  in  result  allied.  Association  may 
restore  facts  to  the  mind  w^ith  no  direct  effort  of  recollec- 
tion, indeed,  in  hours  of  idle  revery,  with  scarcely  a  distinct 
observation  of  their  previous  presence.  This  indolent  flow 
of  thought,  mingling  past,  present,  future,  blending  the  real 
and  the  fanciful,  submitting  itself  to  the  native  cohesion 
of  events  and  desires,  is  remembering,  precisely  as  it  is 
thinking.  It  is  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  consecu- 
tively, tensely,  clearly  ;  but  is  merely  a  succession  of  mental 
movements,  holding  on  to  each  other,  under  a  feeble  im- 
pulse of  pleasure,  by  accidental  connections  of  thought, 
memory,  fancy,  acting  the  part  of  nimble  servitors  in  this 
feast  and  repose  of  the  desires.  Association  in  large  part 
rests  upon  memory,  yet  this  easy  natural  movement  of  the 
mind,  along  certain  trails  of  imagery  which  have  been 
established  by  previous  experience,  serves  to  disguise  the 
action  of  memory  which  underlies  it.  A  certain  sequence 
of  impressions  may  be  the  result  of  many  previous  ex- 
amples, yet  directly  recall  no  one  of  them,  when,  in  the 
lazy  flow  of  thought,  the  mind  passes  this  way,  using  once 
more  groups  of  conceptions  which  the  entire  past  life  has 
been  combining.  Much  therefore  rests  upon  memory  in 
which  its  action  is  so  far  from  being  prominent,  that  its 
presence  is  hardly  discerned.     Much  is  thought  to  be  origi- 


i34  VNDERSTANDING. 

nal  wliicli  is  not  so,  because  tlie  memory  has  restored  it 
stripped  of  the  time,  place  and  circumstances  of  its  acquis- 
ition. 

Habit,  a  permanent  union  by  repetition  of  certain  states 
with  certain  acts,  often  closely  unites  itself  with  memory. 
Words  which  have  been  very  frequently  nttered  in  a  fixed 
order  can  be  repeated  with  a  rapidity  and  slightness  of 
attention  which  hide  the  act  of  memory.  We  are  said  to 
recite  them  by  rote.  There  is  here  doubtless  muscular 
and  nervous  training  as  well  as  recollection.  The  facility 
gained  in  any  lengthy  process  by  repetition  is  of  this 
double  character.  The  memory  itself,  however,  seems  in 
most  cases  to  require  the  lapse  of  a  certain  time,  and  a 
certain  frequency  of  recurrence,  to  make  its  action  rapid 
and  spontaneous.  We  readily  repeat  in  the  morning  what 
was  recited  with  difficulty  the  evening  before,  and  few 
can  acquire  a  literary  composition  for  easy,  accurate  re- 
hearsal in  the  period  immediately  preceding  its  delivery. 
The  same  effort,  scattered  througli  several  days,  is  far  more 
effectual. 

The  growth  of  the  mind  is  also  to  be  distinguished  in 
its  effects  from  the  action  of  memory.  Mental  phenomena 
are  so  blended  that  the  predominant  is  by  no  means  the 
exclusive  element.  Later  movements  of  mind  are  not  mere 
countei-parts  of  earlier  ones.  A  better  grasp  of  premises, 
and  more  insight  into  them ;  conclusions  more  complete 
and  decided,  belong  to  the  thinking  powers,  as  they  are 
strengthened  and  enlarged  by  use.  This  fact  of  growth  is 
an  ultimate  one.  We  know  it,  and  through  familiarity  it 
seems  simple  to  us,  without  our  understanding  its  grounds. 
It  is  something  more  than  memory.  We  are  not  merely 
w^iser,  with  more  acquired  knowledge ;  we  are  stronger, 
able  to  make  an  increasingly  effective  use  of  what  we 
know.     Memory  and  growtli  are  very  closely  related.     The 


MEMORY.  135 

accumulated  stores  of  the  mind  are  the  condition  of  its  ex- 
panded action,  and  this  increased  action  gives  new  signifi- 
cance to  its  acquisitions.  It  is  not  easy  to  say  how  far 
present  soundness  and  shrewdness  of  judgment  are  the 
product  of  increased  strength,  and  how  far  of  increased 
knowledge.  Our  reasoning  powers,  by  easily  evolving  con- 
clusions from  premises,  by  renewing,  rather  than  by  recall- 
ing previous  processes  of  thought,  may  closely  resemble  the 
memory  in  their  action.  We  may  seem  to  recollect  an 
argument,  to  remember  a  proposition,  when  in  fact  we  are 
merely  tracing  again  the  steps  of  reasoning  of  which  it  is 
constructed.  Historical  facts  also,  as  our  information  is 
enlarged,  cluster  together,  and  are  held  in  the  mind  with 
less  tension  of  memory  than  while  they  remained  compara- 
tively few  and  scattered.  A  knowledge  of  their  depend- 
encies enables  us  to  reach  one  from  another,  to  mingle 
reasoning  with  memory,  and  hold  the  entire  group  by  the 
double  ties  of  deduction  and  recollection. 

Memory  is  the  simple  power  of  recalling  the  past  in 
our  intellectual  experience.  We  have  no  occasion  for  the 
double  division  of  a  conservative  and  a  reproductive  power. 
We  know  nothing  of  any  conservation  save  as  we  choose 
to  infer  it  from  reproduction.  The  first,  without  the  last, 
can  give  no  ground  of  inference  even  wdierewith  to  estab- 
lish its  existence.  Keproduction  is  the  only  process  that 
comes  under  our  observation.  We  do  know  that  the  mind 
recalls  its  previous  states,  but  how  this  is  done,  or  whence 
these  states  come,  are  inquiries  either  impossible  of  answer, 
or  impertinent  to  the  subject.  Indeed,  the  tendency  to  ask 
them,  we  regard  as  an  unphilosophical  one,  pushing  back 
of  simple  ultimate  action,  and  this  under  the  analogies  of 
the  material  world.  Of  course  those  who  enter  on  the 
wholly  theoretical  ground  of  the  manner  of  the  mind's  jdos- 
sessing  its  phenomena  may  find  occasion  for  a  theoretical, 


"^36  UNDERSTANDING. 

conservative  faculty,  to  do  the  theoretical  work  assigned  it. 
Of  the  presence  and  action  of  such  a  faculty,  we  directly 
know  nothing,  and  find  its  existence  a  matter  of  inference. 

If  then  we  confine  our  attention  to  actual  phenomena  of 
mind,  and  believe  it  quite  as  intelligible  that  the  mind 
should  repeat  states  in  the  interim  inexistent,  as  to  recall 
states  that  have  hidden  themselves  in  some  region  of  de- 
funct  ghostly  impressions,  we  have  only  occasion  for  one, 
to  wit,  the  reproductive  faculty.  What  becomes  of  a 
thought  after  we  cease  to  think  it,  of  a  feeling  after  we 
cease  to  feel  it?  From  what  quarter  of  the  universe  do 
they  return  to  us  when  recollected?  are  inquiries  whose 
only  gleam  of  meaning  comes  to  them  from  material 
fancies.  A  power,  that  should  simply  hold  without  being 
able  to  recall  facts,  would  be  an  odd  power,  a  power  not 
powerful  enough  to  show  its  own  existence,  an  activity  too 
indolent  to  give  the  least  scintillation  wherewith  to  indicate 
its  whereabouts  ;  a  gratuitous  and  ridiculous  faculty. 

§  4.  The  two  qualities  of  a  good  memory  are  said  to  be 
strength  and  quickness.  These  are  thought  to  be  separable, 
to  exist  in  various  degrees  in  different  persons.  Is  not 
this  conclusion  somewhat  akin  to  the  double  division  of 
the  power  ?  and  does  it  not  arise  from  not  directing  atten- 
tion exclusively  to  the  action  of  memory?  A  strong 
memory  is  a  quick  memory,  and  a  quick  memory  is  so  far 
forth  a  strong,  retentive  one.  "We  sometimes  fully  recall 
things  which  at  first  we  could  not  remember,  the  mind 
struggling  with  obscure  recollections  till  the  facts  one  by 
one  come  to  the  light.  This  result  is  only  partially  the 
fruit  of  memory;  it  is  largely  reached  by  reasoning,  by 
closely  questioning  the  facts  that  are  retained,  and  making 
them  witnesses  for  the  recovery  of  the  remainder.  When 
the  reflective,  philosophical  habit  of  mind  predominates, 
memory  may  have  the  appearance  of  retentiveness  without 


MEMORY.  137 

celerity ;  but  it  is  an  appearance  ratlier  than  a  fact.  The 
weakness  of  the  memory  is  covered  by  the  strength  of  the 
elaborative  faculty,  and  results  are  at  length  reached  which 
the  memory  vouches  for,  but  could  not  alone  have  plucked 
from  oblivion.  The  action  of  simple  memory  is  aided  by 
other  powers  and  facts  of  mind.  Our  recollection  fails  us, 
and  we  strive  to  grapple  the  lost  fact  by  inference.  We 
say  it  must  have  been  so  and  so,  because  these  were  tlie 
preceding  causes,  and  these  the  accompanying  circumstan- 
ces. A  clue  thus  given  to  memory,  the  detached  fact  lays 
aside  its  disguise,  comes  forth  from  its  hiding-place,  and 
confesses  itself  found.  Or  the  mind  keeps  in  the  region 
of  the  lost  fact.  It  directs  its  attention  to  every  resembling 
or  adjunct  object,  hoping  by  some  thread  of  association  to 
restore  to  consciousness  the  furtive  event.  The  mind  thus, 
in  the  weakness  of  retention,  avails  itself  of  the  logical 
cohesion  of  thought,  betakes  itself  from  one  position  to 
another,  lingers  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  lurking  impres- 
sion, to  see  if  from  some  vantage-ground,  from  some  sudden 
disclosure,  the  memory  may  not  again  seize  it.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  recollecting,  it  is  trying  to  recollect,  bringing 
other  powers  and  attitudes  of  the  mind  to  the  assistance  of 
memory.  Such  a  memory  is  neither  strong  nor  quick. 
The  one  quality,  therefore,  of  memory  is  strength,  indicated 
by  quickness ;  while  what  has  been  termed  strength  of 
memory,  as  opposed  to  quickness,  is  to  be  referred  to  re- 
flection. 

Memory  presents  different  phases  of  power.  Some  per- 
sons recall  one  class  of  things  easily,  other  persons  another 
class.  Some  have  a  verbal  memory,  while  others  are  very 
deficient  in  this  respect,  finding  it  perhaps  much  easier  to 
retain  figures  than  names.  The  idea  alone  is  treasured  by 
one  mind,  while  the  exact  expression  is  borne  away  by  an- 
other.    These  variations  seem  chiefly  due  to  different  de- 


138  UNDERSTANDING. 

grees  of  strength,  and  the  different  degrees  of  interest  at- 
tendant on  diversity  of  powers.     The  memory  that  refuses 
to  retain   the  precise  language  is  relatively  a  feeble   one, 
while  the  thought  itself  is  lodged  in  the  mind  as  nmch  by 
the  force  of  the  truth,  by  logical  connections,  by  the  inter- 
est of  the  statement,  as  by  mere  recollection.     The  power 
of  recalling  words,  especially  proper  names,  is  a  good  test 
of  the  strength  of  memory,  since  these,  detached  from  all 
connection,  are   thrown   as  a  dead  weight   on  the   mind. 
Weakness  of  memory  may  sometimes  exist  in  connection 
with  considerable  ease  in  the  retention  of  figures,  since  a 
mathematical  habit  of  mind  and  general  interest  and  power 
in  this  department  may  concentrate  attention  on  its  data, 
and  increase  the  ability  to  retain  them.     The  diverse  forms 
of  memory  are  chiefly  to  be  ascribed  to  diverse  tastes  and 
habits,  and  the   interest   and   attention   which   accompany 
them.     A  tendency  once  established  toward  a  given  pur- 
suit reacts  strongly  on  all  the  faculties  engaged  in  it,  mak- 
ing them  peculiarly  vigorous  and  effective  in  that  direction. 
Though  memory  looks  for  aid  to  all  those  mental  pow- 
ers which  unite  and  correlate  ideas,  it  is  by  no  means  de- 
pendent on  them.      Its   most  vigorous   and  characteristic 
efforts  are  almost  wholly  independent  of  association.     It  is 
when  its  native  strength  fails,  that  association  comes  prom- 
inently forward.     If  the  memory  could  act  always  with  en- 
tire vigor,  it  would  pick  up  at  random,  by  any  arbitrary, 
momentary  law,  the  facts  of  past  experience,  not  colloca- 
ting them  by  any  of  the  accepted  connections  of  thought. 
This,  in  cases  of  rare  power,  it  freely  does.     A  person  has 
been  found,  who,  after  a  single  rehearsal,  could  recite  hun- 
dreds of  words  thrown  promiscuously  together,  could  repeat 
them  backward,  could  give  every  fifth,  sixth,  eighth  word, 
could  deal  with  them  exactly  as  if  they  lay  before  the  eye. 
Herein  is  the  perfect,  the  typical  power  of  memory,  and  it 


MEMORY.  .        ^/-  ''139 

derives  no  assistance  from  association.  Even,ylien  tlu^  i^.  f 
fluence  of  association  is  most  manifest,  it  is  only^tjie  ordei*' 
of  the  conceptions  which  can  be  accounted  for  b}/*!;,^  not  ''^/> 
their  actual  restitution  to  the  mind.  The  power  to  do  fhi« 
work  still  remains  simple  and  primitive.  "We  need,  there-' 
fore,  no  doctrine  of  latent  states  to  account  for  the  remote 
character  of  two  facts  reported  by  the  memory ;  nor  a  belief 
in  a  great  crowd  of  thoughts,  always  present  to  the  mind, 
of  only  a  small  number  of  which  we  are  distinctly  con- 
scious, in  order  to  exj^lain  the  celerity  with  which  memory 
produces  an  appropriate  event,  or  matter  pertinent  to  our 
state  of  feeling,  or  to  the  argument  in  hand.  The  concep- 
tion that  the  memory  has  already  partially  evoked  from 
limbo  a  great  crowd  of  facts,  and  is  moving  among  them  as 
so  voi'imyi  i?eTson(B  dramatis^  making  ready  by  various  laws 
of  association  to  produce  the  next  fit  player  on  the  open 
stage  of  consciousness,  entirely  transcends  the  facts,  is  no 
more  intelligible,  is  less  simple,  than  the  statement  nakedly 
accepted,  that  memory,  under  the  suggestion  of  a  direct 
question  put  by  a  stranger,  or  at  the  intimation  of  the 
thoughts  with  which  the  mind  itself  is  occupied,  can  di- 
rectly reach  and  repeat  pertinent  previous  experiences,  and 
thus  enable  us  to  regain,  without  constantly  maintaining, 
former  phases  of  activity.  In  many  of  the  connections  of 
association,  there  is  no  potency  whatever  wherewith  to  re- 
store a  missing  member,  except  as  memory  gives  them  that 
potency. 

Strength  of  memory  depends  much  on  original  endow- 
ment, though  this  faculty  is  as  readily  cultivated  as  any  of 
our  powers.  It  comes  to  do  what  we  patiently  insist  on  its 
doing.  The  acquisition  of  a  few  names  in  botany  or  in  or- 
nithology may  at  the  outset  be  very  difficult,  yet  in  the  end 
memory  may  retain  many  hundreds  with  comparative  ease. 
In  extemporary  discourse  the  line   of   thought  comes  by 


140  UNDERSTANDING, 

practice  to  be  recalled  with  scarcely  an  effort ;  yet  when 
tlw3  occasion  has  passed,  it  at  once  and  entirely  slips  from 
the  mind.  To  insist  early  and  strenuously  on  the  tasks  as- 
signed the  memory  is  necessary  to  its  efficiency.  Yet  in 
spite  of  cultivation,  there  will  be  very  striking  differences  in 
this  power.  Some  will  retain  lengthy  discourses  after  one 
or  two  readings,  while  others  can  scarcely  repeat  with  ac- 
curacy the  shortest  production. 

A  powerful  memory  is  a  great  aid  to  other  faculties, 
thouD'h  its  streno^th  does  not  seem  necessarily  connected 
with  the  strength  of  any  other  portion  of  our  intellectual 
endowments.  Memory  is  liable  to  usurp  the  office  of  re- 
flection, and  to  overshadow  the  native  growth  of  the  mind 
with  the  luxuriant  products  of  other  intellects.  Indeed, 
there  come  these  compensations  to  a  memory  comparatively 
weak,  that  we  are  thrown  back  more  habitually  on  our  own 
resources ;  that  the  thoughts  find  free  play,  the  statements 
of  others  on  the  same  subject,  and  their  methods  of  treat- 
ment not  being  vividly  present ;  and  that  we  make  all  ac- 
quisitions minister  to  the  vigor  and  growth  of  thought,  to 
its  nutritive  processes  rather  than  to  those  formal  posses- 
sions which  are  held  in  a  somewhat  lifeless  way  in  the 
memory.  We  are  thus  compelled  to  enlarge  and  develop 
our  strength  by  consumption  and  digestion  rather  than  by 
retention.  Yet  with  a  truly  vigorous  mind,  that  cannot  be 
overborne  and  burdened  by  the  thoughts  of  others,  a  strong 
memory  is  a  most  valuable  power. 

Memory  is  cultivated  in  several  ways ;  first,  by  persist- 
ency and  vigor  of  purpose  in  its  use,  by  requiring  ^J>6>,9^7^'v^/y 
what  has  been  distinctly  committed  to  it.  If  its  burdens 
can  be  made  wise,  definite,  and  reasonable,  and  the  mind 
return  patiently  to  the  effort  of  bearing  them,  the  memory 
will  take  up  its  tasks  with  increasing  ease,  and  become 
more  and  more  trustworthy.     If,  on  the  other  hand,  ma- 


MEMORY.  1^1 

terial  in  large  quantities,  in  an  unanaljzed,  vague  form  is 
put  uj^on  it,  and  then  its  delinquencies  are  passed  carelessly 
over,  it  will  become  increasingly  slovenly  and  unreliable  in 

its  work. 

The  second  method  of  increasing  the  strength  of  tlie 
memory  is  found  in  deepening  the  original  impressions 
which  objects  make  upon  us.  Lively  attention,  active 
thoucrht,  sincere  interest,  these  are  the  conditions  under 
which  the  mind  truly  receives,  and  so  easily  retains  the 
matter  before  it.  Inertness,  sluggishness,  and  wavering 
attention,  in  weakening  first  impressions,  weaken  also  the 
memory.  As,  then,  our  interests  is  not  likely  to  be  univer- 
sal, a  concentration  of  it,  an  exclusion  as  well  as  an  inclu- 
sion of  topics,  are  needful,  lest  in  dividing  we  weary  and 
waste  our  forces,  and  make  our  faculties  negligent. 

The  third  aid  to  memory  is  reiteration.  Facts  which 
we  are  determined  to  retain,  we  must  return  to  frequently, 
till  we  thoroughly  possess  them.  The  paths  of  memory  are 
to  be  made  smooth  and  hard  by  use.  If  we  pass  on  to  new 
material  without  returning  often  to  the  old,  a  process  of 
separation  and  disintegration  follows  rapidly  upon  growth. 
We  need  to  integrate  and  re-integrate  our  material  by  re- 
sorting often  to  first  princij^les.  Thus,  while  we  build 
layer  upon  layer  around  the  core  of  knowledge,  we  are  not 
to  allow  the  circulation  of  thought  to  desert  this  heart- 
wood,  till  it  is  compacted  in  perfect  strength,  and  lies  with- 
in, an  insensible  presence  of  power.  The  memory  above 
other  faculties  demands  reiteration,  repeated  integration  of 

its  material. 

A  fourth  and  yet  more  fundamental  condition  in  the 
cultivation  of  memory  is  that  our  knowledge  shall  be  made 
logical,  coherent,  and  fairly  complete  in  the  departments  it 
covers.  The  logical  relations  of  truth  greatly  support  the 
memory.     If  the  topic  is  incapable  of  close  connections,  yet 


1-12  UNDERSTANDING. 

many  facts  near  to  each  other  in  one  field,  as  in  any  portion 
of  history  or  of  science,  are  more  easily  held  fast  than  a 
few.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  a  wise  progress  in  knowl- 
edge, notwithstanding  the  rapid  mnlti23lication  of  facts,  is 
not  a  relief  to  the  memory.  One  truth  unites  itself  to  an- 
other, and  all  are  knit  together  by  so  many  and  so  rapidly 
increasing  relations,  that  we  have  various  approaches  to 
each  distinct  fact.  Nothing  is  of  more  moment  in  reference 
to  its  own  value  than  this  interior  coherence  of  knowledo-e, 
nor  in  reference  to  the  mastery  of  the  memory  over  it. 
Detached  facts  are  like  sand.  We  may  fill  the  hand  with 
it,  and  firmly  grasp  it,  yet  it  begins  at  once  to  ooze  out  at 
every  crevice  till  the  palm  is  left  empty.  Moisten  it,  till 
it  coheres  in  a  ball,  and  the  open  hand  will  hold  with  ease 
twice  the  quantity. 

Mnemonics,  or  artificial  associations  as  aids  of  memory, 
is  not  to  be  commended,  as  its  application  is  at  best  limited, 
and  tends  to  divert  attention  from  those  inherent  dependen- 
cies an  observation  of  which  should  accompany  us  every- 
where. 

§  5.  The  second  faculty  belonging  to  the  understand- 
ing is  that  of  imagination.  By  the  imagination  we  mean 
the  power  which  the  mind  has  of  presenting  to  itself  vividly 
all  phenomenal  forms.  Whatever  has  assumed,  or  is  capa- 
ble of  assuming,  this  phenomenal  character,  whether  in  the 
external  or  internal  world,  is  an  object  of  imagination.  A 
landscape,  a  melody,  a  state  of  consciousness,  a  character 
may  all  be  imagined,  that  is,  vividly  presented  to  the  mind 
under  their  own  appropriate  forms.  As  sight  is  the  most 
full,  elaborate  and  distinct  of  the  senses,  giving  many  par- 
ticulars, and  cutting  them  apart  by  sharp  outlines,  the  pic- 
tures which  arise  under  this  form  of  perception  are  es- 
pecially clear  and  impressive,  and  hence  have  given  the 
name  imagination  to  the  faculty  which   paints  them,   and 


Q 


IMA  GIN  A  TION.  14.- 

have  furnislied  tlie  general  type  of  its  action.  Nothing 
however  seems  unapproachable  to  the  imagination  which  is 
capable  of  phenomenal  existence,  that  is,  of  appearing  and 
hence  re-aj)pearing  in  consciousness.  Thought,  let  it  be  ob- 
served, enters  the  imagination  as  it  enters  consciousness, 
merely  as  a  phenomenon.  The  moment  we  begin  to  think, 
that  is  to  judge,  we  renew  thought  as  a  fact,  and  do  not  re- 
store it  as  an  image. 

Imagination  is  simply  a  general,  rej^resentative  power, 
and  can  not  therefore  work  alone  without  working  at  ran- 
dom. The  powers  which  direct  it,  which  employ  it  in  their 
service,  are  memory,  appetite,  desire,  the  aesthetic  and  the 
moral  taste. 

By  its  aid  we  restore  vividly,  that  is  under  a  living  form, 
the  past ;  w^e  intensify  the  present,  filling  it  with  the  image- 
ry of  pleasure ;  we  reach  toward  the  possible,  the  future, 
in  a  higher  conception  of  achievement  and  character.  Im- 
agination is  so  blended  with  memory  in  a  portion  of  its 
action,  that  we  should  hardly  separate  the  two,  were  it  not 
for  other  fields  independent  of  recollection  on  which  it 
enters.  It,  like  memory,  is  instrumental,  and  waits  the  use 
and  guidance  of  other  faculties. 

§  6.  A  theory  of  the  imagination  accepted  by  philoso- 
phers so  diverse  as  Hamilton  and  Bain,  is  expressed  by  the 
latter  in  these  words  : 

"  The  renewed  feeling  occupies  the  very  same  parts  ^  and 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  original  feeling^  and  no  other 
parts^  nor  tn  any  other  maimer  that  can  he  assi^ned^ 
(The  Senses  and  Intellect,  page  oi-I.)  "  The  imagination 
of  visible  objects  is  a  process  of  seeing.  Tlie  musician's 
imagination  is  hearing,  the  phantasies  of  the  cook  and 
gourmand  tickle  the  palate."     (Page  352.) 

The  statement  of  Hamilton  is  not  so  unqualified,  and  to 
that  degree  less  objectionable.     Both  of  them,  liowever,  go 


f 


Utt  UNDERSTANDING. 

mucli  beyond  our  knowledge.  "When  a  statement  so  purely 
theoretical  as  this  explicit,  italicized  dogma  of  Bain's,  is 
made  the  foundation  of  a  complete  explanation  of  the 
faculty  involved,  an  explanation  resting  entirely  upon  its 
truth,  we  see  that  metaphysicians  of  the  old  school  are  not 
the  only  ones  who  can  put  foot  in  air,  and  mount  to  the 
stars.  An  act  of  imagination  and  memory  thus  becomes 
with  the  latter  another — as  indicated  by  the  clause,  "nor 
in  any  other  manner" — unmodified  perception,  lingering 
or  reawakened  in  the  organ  of  sense. 

The  proof  of  their  explicit  assertions  is  found  by  Bain 
and  Hamilton  in  the  fact,  that  the  organs  of  action  are 
evidently  affected  by  the  images  present  to  the  mind  in 
imagination  as  they  would  be  by  the  objects  themselves, 
only  in  a  less  degree,  and  that  with  a  loss  of  any  of  the 
senses  the  power  of  imagination  disappears  in  a  correspond- 
ing direction.  The  examples  adduced  under  the  first  ar- 
gument are  of  a  kind  not  leading  directly  to  the  conclusion 
in  issue ;  but  are  quite  as  explicable  on  other  grounds. 
"A  dog  dreaming  sets  his  feet  a  going,  and  sometimes 
barks."  "  Some  persons  of  weak  nerves  can  scarcely  think 
without  muttering — they  talk  to  themselves."  "  Anger 
takes  exactly  the  same  course  in  the  system,  whether  it  be 
at  a  person  present,  or  at  some  one  remembered  or  imag- 
ined." Suppose  our  fancies  to  be  pure  intellectual  acts, 
independent  of  the  senses,  should  we  not  expect  these 
results  ?  The  nervous  flow  outward  on  the  active,  related 
powers  would  naturally  be  secured,  though  the  senses 
were  quiescent,  if  that  state  of  mind  were  present  which 
occasions  this  result.  These  examples  furnish  no  proof, 
that  the  organs  of  perception  are  affected,  and  are  the 
source  of  this  tenden-cy  to  movement. 

Farther  examples  are  quoted  from  Miiller.  "  The  mere 
idea  of  a  nauseous  taste  can  excite  the  sensation  even  to  the 


IMAGINATION.  145 

production  of  vomiting,"  AYe  tliink  the  more  correct  state- 
ment would  have  been,  the  mere  idea  of  a  nauseous  taste 
can  produce  vomiting.  In  this  form,  it  loses  all  pertinence 
as  proof.  The  active  results  follow  from  the  idea,  the 
action  in  the  brain,  and  not  from  the  sensation.  We  do 
not  in  such  cases  suppose  that  we  taste  the  disgusting  food, 
but  only  that  we  conceive  its  taste.  "  The  mere  sight  of  a 
person  about  to  pass  a  sharp  instrument  over  glass  or  porce- 
lain, is  sufficient,  as  Darwin  remarks,  to  excite  the  well- 
known  sensation  in  the  teeth." 

N^ow  the  setting  of  the  teeth  on  edge,  is  an  effect  of 
nervous  action,  and  may  as  fitly  follow  that  action  when 
coming  in  connection  with  the  imagination,  as  when  occa- 
sioned by  the  senses.  The  fact  that  fancy  affects  the  ner- 
vous system,  and  hence  the  muscular  system,  in  a  manner 
allied  to  that  of  the  senses,  no  more  proves  the  identity  of 
imagination  and  sensation  than  a  fright  at  a  ghost  proves 
the  existence  of  a  ghost.  These  examples  do  not  reach 
deep  enough  to  do  the  work  required  of  them.  They  only 
show  the  results  to  be  in  a  measure  the  same,  whether  the 
object  be  imagined  or  perceived,  whether  the  initiative  is 
from  within  or  from  without :  whereas,  they  ought  to  show 
the  organs  of  sense  so  affected  in  what  we  call  imagination 
as  to  be  a  sufficient  cause  of  the  effects  which  follow. 
Against  this,  mental  and  physical  experience  testifies.  (1) 
We  distinguish  easily  between  acts  of  imagination  and  per- 
ception, both  in  the  character  and  locality  of  the  activity. 
An  impression  that  lingers  in  the  organ,  or  renews  itself 
there,  imjDlies  disease.  The  organ  shows  its  power  by  a 
quick,  exact  response  to  external  conditions  only.  (2)  We 
observe,  also,  that  the  action  occasioned  by  the  images  of 
fancy  in  most  men  is  slight  and  ineffectual  when  contrasted 
with  the  results  of  real  perception.  Great  diversities  in 
character  hinge  just  here,  on  the  predominance  of  the  senses 


146  UJSII)EESTANDING. 

or  of  the  imagination;  the  latter  type  being  peculiarly 
divorced  from  action.  Action  may  arise  directly  from 
stimuli  in  tlie  senses  ;  or  indirectly  from  tlie  states  of  mind 
evoked  by  sensations  ;  or  again  from  states  of  mind  called 
out  by  memory  or  by  imagination.  This  partial  agreement 
of  effects  does  not  imply  an  identity  of  the  causes  involved 
in  them. 

J^either  do  we  find  that  that  which  paralyzes  the  organ 
of  sense  necessarily  and  immediately  destroys  the  power  to 
imagine  objects  which  enter  through  that  sense.  A  deaf 
Beethoven  can  compose  music,  a  blind  Milton,  blind  by 
disease  of  the  nerve,  can  write  an  epic.  That  there  should 
be  a  slow  decay  of  the  imagination  in  connection  with  the 
early  loss  of  a  sense  is  natural,  almost  inevitable.  The 
requisite  material  ceases  to  be  presented  to  the  mind; 
present  possessions,  impressions,  fade  out,  and  the  objects 
of  the  remaining  senses  usurp  the  place  of  the  lost  sense. 
The  doctrine,  as  stated  above,  would  require  that  blindness, 
when  an  affection  of  the  nerve,  should  be  followed  by  the 
instant  and  entire  loss  of  the  images  of  visible  objects.  The 
facts  signally  contradict  the  theory,  and  the  theory  fails. 
The  blind  man  deals  with  all  the  imagery  of  the  eye,  walks 
the  streets,  and  uses,  to  the  full,  the  language  of  vision. 
Indeed,  in  the  strict  form  in  which  it  is  stated,  this  dogma 
approaches  an  absurdity.  If  I  imagine  a  visual  object  on 
the  retina  of  the  eye,  "  in  the  same  manner  "  in  which  I 
see  it,  my  imagination  should  be  confined  to  the  open  eye, 
and  be  identical  with  the  impression  of  objects  actually  seen. 
Otherwise  it  must  be  conceded,  that  in  one  case  the  agency 
affecting  the  retina  acts  from  without,  and  in  the  other 
from  within,  in  itself  a  grave  difference.  The  imagination 
of  feelings,  tastes,  odors,  should  also  be  as  clear  and  deci- 
sive as  the  conception  of  the  objects  of  sight.  Quite  the 
reverse  is  true,  a  fact  entirely  intelligible  on  the  ground 


IMAGINATION,  147 

that  imagination  is  an  intellectual  power  independent  of 
the  organs  of  sense  ;  as  the  intellectual  element  decidedly 
predominates  in  sight,  while  the  lower  senses  are  single  and 
emotional  in  their  character,  and  thus  yield  less  matter  to 
the  fancy.  We  take  a  certain  pleasure  in  drawing  attention 
to  the  airy  strides  of  one  who  so  thoroughly  sympathizes, 
as  does  Bain,  with  Positive  Philosophy.  Not  having  set 
to  ourselves  the  task  of  preparing  the  way  for  the  insensible 
growth  of  intellectual  out  of  physical  phenomena,  we  can 
accept  the  impression  of  consciousness,  that  an  act  of  imag- 
ination is  one  of  imagination,  quite  distinct  and  distin- 
guishable from  every  form  of  perception,  clear  or  obscure. 
We  feel  no  more  interest  in  discussing  imagination  under 
perception,  than  perception  under  imagination.  In  honest 
induction,  we  can  take  what  we  find.  Nor  is  the  intelligi- 
bility of  our  philosophy  any  the  less  in  thus  regarding  the 
mind  as  an  independent  first  cause  of  its  own  action  than 
in  filling  it  with  echoes,  and  mild  vibrations,  and  the  ling- 
ering, trembling,  sobbing,  swelling  cadences  of  sensation, 
as  of  a  harp  unable  to  part  with  the  harmony  that  has 
once  run  along  its  strings.  These  transferred  analogies  are 
the  most  inexplicable  of  all  explications.  Mind  and  matter 
present  plain  phenomena,  each  in  its  own  way  cognizable ; 
but  mental  movements  that  are  semi-physical,  and  physical 
movements  that  rise  into  and  are  productive  of  thought, 
have  no  organ  whatever  for  their  apprehension.  Seen  with 
the  eye,  they  become  purely  material ;  known  by  conscious- 
ness, they  become  at  once  and  completely  transcendental. 
Two  things  known  as  unlike,  each  by  its  own  faculty,  are 
far  better  known  than  when  affirmed  to  be  alike,  with  no 
common  ground  or  common  origin  for  their  comparison. 

§  7.  Whatever  is  thought  of  the  nature  of  imagination, 
its  influence  and  office  are  not  doubtful.  It  is  a  great  in- 
tensifier  of  emotions.     Acting  under  the  impulse  of  desire. 


148  UNDERSTANDING. 

it  brings  vividly  forward  the  means  of  gratification,  and 
kindles  the  passions  into  a  flame.  The  mind  occupied  by 
furious  lusts,  becomes,  till  imagery  is  displaced  by  reality, 
the  lodgment  of  a  Tantalus.  Unreal  phantoms  provoke  the 
eye,  stimulate  the  appetites,  and,  in  the  grasping,  sink  back 
into  tormenting  shadows.  The  mind  is  consumed  momen- 
tarily in  the  red  heat  of  its  own  passions,  which  it  can 
neither  quell  by  authority,  nor  quench  by  indulgence.  Mis- 
ery in  all  forms  uses  the  imagination  as  a  means  wherewith 
to  irritate  and  exasperate  itself.  Discouragement  and  fear 
evoke  troubles  beyond  the  reality.  Kot  only  is  the  ship 
battered  by  the  waves  about  it,  the  vista  of  a  yet  more 
angry  ocean  is  opened  up,  and  it  plunges  on  from  shock  to 
shock,  the  heart  sinking  in  despair  more  in  view  of  what  is 
to  be,  than  of  what  is.  Disappointment  aggravates  the 
evils  it  suffers  by  exaggerated  pictures  of  the  good  to  have 
been  attained.  One  feels  the  heat  of  the  desert,  and  thinks 
of  cooling  streams. 

On  the  other  hand,  pleasure  owes  its  hilarity,  its  intoxi- 
cation very  much  to  the  imagination.  It  spreads  the  rosy, 
blithesome  atmosphere  of  the  present  to  the  very  horizon, 
and  makes  the  distance  gorgeous  with  a  play  of  light,  be- 
yond what  approach  will  verify.  The  eccentricity,  the 
boldness,  the  poetic  inspiration,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  mind 
find  expression  and  play  chiefly  in  the  fancy.  By  it  we 
cease  to  be  roadsters  along  the  regular  route  of  existence  ; 
we  dart  ahead,  or  fall  behind,  or  turn  to  the  right,  or  to  the 
left ;  we  rise  upward,  tread  paths  of  air,  and  return  only  at 
intervals  to  the  actual,  where  the  foot-sore  senses  and  judg- 
ment are  plodding  on. 

It  is  evidently  this  faculty  that  is  yoked  to  the  car  of 
the  mind  in  sleep,  and  wheels  it,  in  ranging  fashion,  through 
possible  and  impossible  scenes,  through  weird  imagery, 
recollections  interlacino^  fancies   in  strange  and  monstrous 


IMAGIJ^ATION.  149 

guise.  The  very  fact  that  the  senses  find  such  complete 
repose  in  sleep  while  the  imagination  is  so  bold,  dashing 
and  wayward,  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  action  of  the 
two  is  far  from  identical.  The  same  is  true  in  reverie,  in 
day-dreaming.  The  mind  closes  its  senses,  takes  out  these 
airy  steeds  of  fancy,  throws  the  rein  on  their  necks,  and 
gives  itself  up  to  the  luxury  of  motion  along  ways  in  which 
the  friction  of  ruts,  the  jar  of  collisions,  and  delay  of  wheels 
lifting  slowly  in  the  mud  are  not  experienced. 

The  imagination  also  greatly  aids  our  thoughts.  The 
judgment  and  the  fancy  are  frequently  regarded  as  faculties 
somewhat  opposed  to  each  other  in  their  action.  The  ease 
and  certainty  of  the  first,  in  some  of  its  most  severe  and 
logical  processes,  depend  very  much  on  the  clearness  and 
precision  of  the  second.  In  solid  geometry,  in  many 
branches  of  the  higher  mathematics,  in  mechanics,  in  as- 
tronomy, a  first  condition  for  the  ready  and  safe  movement 
of  the  thoughts,  is  a  clear  unwavering  image  of  the  solid,  or 
of  the  objects  and  their  relations,  involved  in  the  problem. 
If  the  subject  of  contemplation  cannot  be  easily  evoked,  and 
quietly  held  in  the  field  of  imagination,  the  judgment  is  at 
once  at  fault  in  establishing  its  connections,  and  gropes  in 
the  darkness,  like  one  blindfolded.  Scientific  inquiry  also, 
the  tracing  of  analogies,  the  observation  of  resemblances,  are 
greatly  aided  by  a  vivid  imagination,  presenting  distinctly 
to  the  mind  a  large  circle  of  objects.  The  memory  is  but 
very  partial  in  its  action  without  this  faculty,  and  the  mind, 
in  the  weakness  of  representation,  is  compelled  to  take  up 
objects  singly,  to  the  oversight  of  dependencies  which  might 
furnish  the  key  of  success.  The  imagination,  then,  is  as 
essential  to  philosophy  as  to  poetry.  The  difference,  lies  in 
the  two  cases,  not  so  much  in  the  number  of  objects  pre- 
sented, as  in  the  manner  and  purpose  of  consideration. 

Most  immediate  and   jDOwerful  is  the  influence  of  the 


150  UNDERSTANDING. 

imagination   on   action.      The   pleasures,  disappointments, 
regrets,  admonitions  of  the  past,  keep  company  with  the 
mind  in  that  living  way  w^hich  makes  them  effective  coun-  ■ 
selors  through  this  faculty ;  and,  as  the  wisdom  of  the  pre- 
sent is  chiefly  the  gleanings   of  the  past,  our  immediate 
purposes,  its  ripened  conclusions,  the  pictures  of  the  fancy 
are  as  the  reflectors  which  gather  the  otherwise  diffused, 
fugitive  light,  and  pour   it  all  in   on  the   working-point. 
But  it  is  in  the  ideals  of  action  and  character,  which  are  al- 
ways distinctly  present  in  noble  minds,  and  hardly  wholly 
disappear,  even  with  the  lowest,  that  the  most  constant  and 
valuable  function  of  the  imasrination  is  seen.     Throuc^h  a 
conception  of  that  which  is  more  desirable  in  ends,  more 
skillful  in  means,  more  wise  in  action,  more  graceful  and 
winning  in  method,  more  pure  and  holy  in  purpose,  more 
benignant  and    beautiful  in  presentation,  imagination  fur- 
nishes an  embodiment  of  the  truth  nearest  us,  becomes  an 
angel  of  light  running  before  us,  guiding  our  steps,  scaling 
for  us  every  steep  of  excellence,  dropping  back  upon  us 
words  of  encouragement  and  hope.     To  be  destitute  of  an 
ideal,  is  to  want  the  best  motive  of  effort,  is  to  lose  direction, 
is  to  lack  momentum,  is  to  be  dead,  passively  preyed  on  by 
the  forces  that  have  clutched  us.      Evil  and  death  admit 
this  inertia,  goodness  and  life  do  not ;  and  an  imagination 
that  looks  out  on  fields  of  light  that  open  vistas  into  the 
paradise  of  liope  becomes  an  essential  to  all  high  resolve 
and  cheerful  effort.     If  the  imagination  is  captivated  with 
the  past  renewing  its  life  with  an  art  more  cunning  than 
that  which  first  spread  its  colors,  we  have  tlie  poetical  tem- 
perament ;  if  the  imagination  keej^s  close  at  home  in  the 
present,  it  gives  the  practical  disposition ;  or  if  it  pushes 
out  with  a  noble  impulse  of  exploration  and  improvement 
into  the  future,  it  discloses  to  the  full  the  spiritual  force 
of  man. 


IMAGINATION.  151 

§  8.  The  strength  of  the  imagination,  aside  from  original 
gift,  (1)  depends  on  exercise.  This  faculty  cannot  fail  to 
be  called  forth  ;  the  point  of  interest  is  chiefly  the  direction 
and  degree  of  its  employment.  When  made  to  minister  to 
the  judgment  chiefly,  it  seems  to  be  somewhat  overshad- 
owed by  that  graver  power,  and  its  action  oftentimes  ap- 
pears to  be  less  than  it  really  is.  Philosophy  may  be  as 
impassioned  as  poetry.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
fancy  is  left  to  construct  its  imagery  at  the  beck  of  desire, 
bound  down  to  no  useful  artistic  end,  it  leaves  the  mind 
extravagant  in  its  conceptions,  wayward  and  fickle  in  its 
purposes.  Persons  characterized  by  the  unguarded,  ungov- 
erned  action  of  this  faculty,  are  inefficient  and  visionary. 
The  most  perfect  and  exclusive  training  of  the  imagination, 
is  found  in  the  fine  arts.  Here  it  is  put  to  its  boldest,  yet 
most  restrained  and  governed  efforts.  The  sense  of  the 
beautiful  calls  it  forth,  and  guides  it,  and  the  combined 
vigor  and  poise  of  its  action  yield  the  highest  works  of  art, 
the  statue,  painting,  cathedral.  The  energetic  exercise  of 
our  intellectual  powers,  especially  elicit  this  faculty.  All 
forms  of  expression  seek  its  lustre.  (2)  The  power  of  the 
imagination  is  also  increased  by  a  cultivation  of  the  senses. 
These  give  it  material.  If  physical  and  mental  phenomena 
are  appreciatively  received  in  the  first  instance,  the  imag- 
ination will  restore  them  with  corresponding  clearness. 
The  imagination  is  thus  closely  associated  with  the  sensitive 
force  and  sportive  freedom  of  the  mental  life. 

There  is,  in  this  connection,  a  very  misleading  use  of  the 
word  conception,  to  which  we  wish  to  draw  attention. 
That  an  idea  is  conceivable  or  inconceivable,  is  constantly 
brought  forward  in  pliilosophical  discussion  as  a  reason  for 
its  acceptance  or  rejection.  There  are  other  uses  of  the 
word  to  which  we  shall  revert  later,  but  the  use  which  con- 
nects conception  with  imagination,  and  calls  that  conceiv- 


152  UNDERSTANDING. 

able  which  can  be  imagined,  and  that  inconceivable  which 
does  not  respond  to  this  faculty,  is  a  freqnent  and  deceptive 
one.  As  the  imagination  deals  only  with  the  phenomenal, 
to  say  that  a  thing  is  inconceivable,  is  only  to  say,  that  it  is 
not  of  a  phenomenal  character,  not  presentable  in  its  essence 
under  a  phenomenal  form.  This  may  very  well  be,  and  yet 
the  idea  be  one  that  is  to  find  acceptance.  It  may  be  of- 
fered and  urged  as  one  that  is  not  phenomenal,  but  is  of  a 
direct,  intuitive  character.  To  say  of  such  an  idea,  that  it 
is  inconceivable,  is  simply  to  restate  what  is  avowed,  indeed 
insisted  on,  concerning  it.  It  is  the  essential  character  of 
an  inner  intuition,  that  it  should  not  be  an  object  of  expe- 
rience, and  therefore  not  capable  in  the  fancy  of  assuming 
this  form.  In  this  sense  of  the  word,  the  truth  of  a  judg- 
ment even  is  inconceivable.  The  act  of  judging  is  conceiv- 
able, the  objects  to  which  it  pertains  are  conceivable,  but 
the  truth  itself  of  the  judgment  is  inconceivable.  If  it 
were  so,  we  should  require  no  judgment.  The  act  of  con- 
ceiving or  imagining,  would  be  sufficient,  and  would  in- 
clude in  itself  the  entire  process  of  reacliing  the  truth. 
The  judgment  is  superadded  to  the  imagination  for  the  very 
reason  that  new  matter  is  and  may  be  amenable  to  it.  Not 
to  be  able  to  conceive  a  thing  is  simply  not  to  be  able  to  im- 
agine it,  and  the  field  of  imagination  is,  in  the  outset,  put 
down  by  us  as  a  limited  one.  When,  therefore  we  are  by 
claim  and  concession  talking  of  that  outside  of  this  field,  the 
assertion  disproves  nothing,  that  the  subject  is  inconceivable. 
Of  course  it  is;  if  it  had  not  been,  we  should  not  have 
offered  it  as  an  intuitive  notion,  a  necessary  and  univer- 
sal idea,  but  as  conforming  to  our  observation.  The  true 
stroke  of  overthrow  directed  against  sucli  notions  as  that 
of  liberty,  of  the  infinite,  would  be  that  they  are  conceiva- 
ble, and  therefore  of  a  phenomenal  character,  not  deeper 
nor  more  necessary.     To  say  of  such  ideas,  that  tliey  are 


JUDGMENT.  153 

* 

inconceivable,  and  tlierefore  not  true,  is  to  make  that  a 
ground  of  inference  for  their  non- existence,  which  is  in  fact 
the  result  of  their  peculiar  and  permanent  character.  The 
blind  might  as  well  say,  colors  have  no  existence,  because 
they  are  neither  tastes,  odors  nor  sounds,  nor  are  they  con- 
ceivable as  such. 

§  9.  The  third  power  of  the  understanding  is  judgment. 
This  is,  in  some  sense,  the  most  fruitful  and  important  of 
all  our  faculties.  To  it,  the  others  seem  especially  to  min- 
ister, and,  in  connection  with  it,  to  fulfil  their  purpose. 
By  the  judgment  we  rationally  combine  and  use  the  mate- 
rial furnished  in  perception  and  intuition.  It  is  that  action 
of  the  mind,  by  which  the  phenomena  of  sense  are  taken 
up  into  the  light  of  reason,  there  interpreted  in  their  nec- 
essary relations,  and  presented  as  a  system  of  things.  The 
judgment  is  the  power  by  which  we  unite  subject  and 
predicate  under  some  appropriate  regulative  idea.  The 
exact  meaning  and  force  of  this  language  may  not  at  once 
be  obvious,  but  will  be  unfolded  by  farther  discussion. 

Abstraction,  generalization,  conception,  classification,  an- 
alysis, synthesis,  are  all  processes  of  thought,  requiring 
no  peculiar  powers  beyond  those  now  mentioned.  They 
are  the  results  and  the  attendant  methods  of  judgment, 
judiciously  employed.  The  faculties  of  perception  are  not 
left  to  perceive  all  things  promiscuously  and  indiscrim- 
inately. The  judgment  does  not  judge  blindly,  satisfied 
with  the  link  of  each  copulation,  no  matter  whether  it  lies 
apart,  or  is  united  into  a  chain  with  others.  This  power  is 
set  at  work  in  the  service  of  certain  intellectual  impulses, 
and  works  therefore  consecutively  with  selection  and  rejec- 
tion, with  directed  and  conjoined  effort  towards  the  desired 
results.  Separate  judgments  are  thus  thrown  into  trains  of 
reasoning,  and  those  judgments  sought  which  can  be  made 
the  parts  of  such  a  tr.-.iii.     Those  objects  are  considered, 


154:  UNDERSTANDING. 

and  those  qualities  in  each  object,  which  are,  in  the  present 
connection,  points  of  interest.  Agreements  are  sought  as 
links  of  thouglit,  to  the  dismission  of  differences.  Thus  we 
have  abstraction,  the  separation  of  one  quality  or  relation 
in  attention  from  every  other ;  generalization,  the  detection 
of  one  quality,  one  form  of  action,  one  relation  in  many 
diverse  objects ;  conception  in  its  limited  sense,  the  uniting 
of  several  qualities  under  one  generic  or  specific  word,  to 
the  exclusion  of  individual  distinctions ;  classification,  the 
uniting  of  conceptions  into  a  complete  system,  covering 
some  department  of  knowledge.  Analysis  and  synthesis 
are  the  same  processes  differently  expressed.  The  first 
process,  that  of  abstraction,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
other  tliree,  is  analytic  ;  while  the  remaining  three  are 
synthetic.  By  analysis  we  separate  concrete  wholes  into 
their  intellectual  parts  ;  by  synthesis,  we  recombine  these 
parts  in  new  ways  for  intellectual  ends.  These,  then,  as 
the  various  methods  and  fruits  of  a  fertile  judgment,  re- 
quire no  farther  attention  in  a  discussion  of  faculties,  but 
belong  to  logic,  which  treats  of  the  law^s  of  thought,  of  the 
several  forms  of  activity  wdiich  the  one  power,  the  judg- 
ment, presents.  The  extent  of  field  and  the  complex  re- 
sults wdiich  belong  to  this  faculty  are  evinced  by  the  fact, 
that  a  distinct  science  is  set  apart  to  it,  and  the  laws  of 
thinking  or  judging  are  discussed  in  a  separate  and  com- 
plete form  as  logic. 

Yery  simple  sentences  are  a  plexus  of  judgments.  They 
are  primary  statements  in  which  many  other  statements 
are  included.  A  brief  affirmation  has  the  same  involution 
of  judgments  as  a  simple  perception.  Tlie  central  assertion 
only  assumes  the  full  form  of  a  judgment,  while  every 
adjective,  adverb,  conjunctional  and  propositional  clause, 
every  inflection,  modify  the  primary  affirmation  by  a  sub- 
ordinate  statement.     The  giving  of  a  name,  the  applica- 


JUDGMENT.  155 

tion  of  an  adjective,  the  change  of  a  prefix  or  affix  are 
judgments.  The  abstract  noun  in  its  formation  and  in  its 
use  involves  a  judgment.  One  quality  or  relation  is  distin- 
guished from  others,  and  affirmed  separately  in  its  associa- 
tions with  them.  Generalization  is  a  similar  judgment, 
the  ascription  to  many  things  or  actions  of  one  quality  or 
relation.  Conception  is  the  grouping  of  several  qualities, 
as  the  differentia  of  species,  genera,  classes.  Classification 
is  a  formation  of  groups  in  reference  to  each  other  in  a  field 
of  knowledge  ;  these  groups  mutually  excluding  each  other, 
and  conjointly  covering  all  the  facts  before  them,  and 
marking  their  relation  to  each  other.  It  involves,  there- 
fore, very  many  judgments,  is  made  up  of  a  series  of 
judgments.  Classification  is  the  final  result  of  inquiry  into 
things,  and  if  it  rests,  as  it  must  ultimately  rest,  on  the 
relation  of  forces,  it  is  the  summation  of  knowledge.  Ab- 
straction leads  to  generalization,  generalization  to  concep- 
tion, conception  to  classification.  Analysis  and  synthesis 
accompany  the  entire  movement,  analysis  being  foremost 
in  its  earlier,  and  synthesis  in  its  later  stages. 

We  should  observe  how  thoroughly  the  action  of  the 
judgment  is  a  construction  of  relations  ;  how  exclusively 
the  concrete  fact  is  considered  in  its  invisible  dependencies. 
The  whole  process  opens  in  abstraction,  which  is  a  breaking 
up  of  the  concrete  experience,  a  consideration  of  it  in  con- 
structive parts  or  elements  which  have  no  separate  exist- 
ence. This  abstraction  is  not  only  not  an  act  of  the  senses, 
it  is  impossible  to  them,  and  must  commence  and  proceed  in 
a  purely  mental  region  ;  one  in  which  relations,  not  sensible 
qualities,  are  the  objects  of  consideration.  Each  successive 
step  involves  this  same  abstraction  in  an  increasingly  ex- 
tended and  complicated  form.  The  conception  is  made  up 
of  a  group  of  qualities  which  the  mind  is  constantly  shift- 
ing for  purposes  ..of    more  exact  classification,  and  which 


156  UNDERSTANDING. 

liave  no  detached  existence  in  experience.  Classification 
involves  an  extended  consideration  of  relations  that  abide 
onlv  before  the  inner  eye  of  the  mind ;  and  thus  the  entire 
web  of  knowledge  is  spun  out  of  a  material  wholly  impal- 
pable to  the  finest  senses.  Analysis  yields  a  tenuous  thread 
of  thought,  and  synthesis  weaves  it  into  the  invisible  con- 
nections of  knowledge.  The  material'of  the  senses  remains 
after  observation  and  inquiry  precisely  what  it  was  before, 
but  perfectly  new  relations  have  been  disclosed  between  its 
parts.  Supersensual  forces  and  dependencies  have  been 
put  back  of  the  visible  facts,  and  so  they  are  understood. 
The  judgment,  then,  can  do  nothing  with  mere  phenomena. 
These  are  declared  by  the  senses.  It  is  not  till  a  new  ap- 
proach is  opened  up  in  a  process  of  abstraction,  that  the 
relations  of  things  are  separately  discussed,  and  the  judg- 
ment combines  them  in  an  independent  way  for  its  own 
ends.  A  getting  out  of  and  beyond  the  senses  into  rela- 
tions abstractly  considered,  is  the  first  condition  of  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  judgment.  But  this  condition  involves  two 
others,  the  presence  to  the  mind  through  the  senses  of  con- 
crete material,  and  the  power  to  analyze  this  material  by 
the  intuitive  discernment  of  its  dependencies,  its  primary 
intellectual  elements.  Keasoning,  a  series  of  interlocked 
judgments,  arises  from  the  same  clear  and  exclusive  in  sight 
into  relations,  and  the  same  ability  to  deal  with  them,  both 
independently  of  concrete  things,  and  as  associated  with 
them. 

§  10.  The  mind  of  man  uses  the  contents  of  the  senses 
simply  as  the  raw  material  of  knowledge.  It  constructs  for 
itself  many  systems  of  arrangement,  and  by  analysis  and 
synthesis  works  up  these  subjects  of  inquiry  under  them. 
Though  the  world  is  already  an  orderly  and  beautiful  thing 
as  offered  to  the  senses,  it  is  none  the  less  treated  by  the 
mind  as  material  roughly  gathered  into  a  museum,  tliere  to 


JUDGMENT.  157 

be  sorted  and  put  in  its  place.  Language  is  the  medium  of 
this  great  transformation  under  the  constructive  force  of  tho 
judgment. 

No  sooner  in  the  use  of  language  was  a  name  annexed 
to  an  object,  than,  by  virtue  of  resemblances  discerned 
though  not  defined  between  this  object  and  other  objects, 
the  word  began  to  enlarge  its  aj^plication,  and  to  include 
many  things  within  a  vague  circumference  of  likeness. 
This  movement  is  so  normal  to  the  human  mind,  that  many 
nouns  doubtless  never  had  a  very  distinct  use  as  proper 
nouns  ;  and  many  proper  nouns  began  at  once  to  expand 
into  common  nouns.  The  fixedness  of  the  proper  noun 
grows  up  with  the  fixedness  of  the  common  noun.  It  is 
quite  too  much  to  assert  that  all  common  nouns  have  been 
j)roper  nouns,  simply  because  this  expansion  in  the  beginning 
would  be  the  prevailing  line  of  growth.  Trees  seen  in  a 
grove,  birds  seen  in  flocks,  and  animals  encountered  in 
troops,  would  be  named  collectively  or  rather  as  a  class.  As 
words  enlarged  their  meaning,  other  words  would  be  called 
for  under  the  wants  of  men  to  designate  things  more  nar- 
rowly, and  so  a  counter  movement  of  restricted  definition 
would  arise.  Classification  would  thus  proceed  by  accident, 
under  the  variable  interests  and  inclinations  of  men. 

But  no  sooner  is  the  mind  awakened  to  its  own  pro- 
cesses, than  all  this  is  altered.  Classes  are  distinctly  formed 
and  put  in  definite  relations  to  each  other.  Among  ail  com- 
parable objects  proper  nouns  are  extended,  and  each  held 
fast ;  and  thus  the  purposes  of  thought  and  expression  are 
subserved  with  increasing  clearness  and  thoroughness.  Much 
discussion  has  been  had  as  to  the  precise  significancy  of  this 
growth  of  knowledge  by  the  mediation  of  language.  How 
far  are  the  results  in  the  things  themselves,  and  how  far  in 
the  mind  ?  What  are  the  things  expressed  by  words  1  If 
we   take   any   common   noun,  as   stone,  the   discussion   is 


158  UNDERSTANDING. 

brought  to  an  issue  by  asking,  What  does  it  designate  ?  In 
an  obscure  form  the  controversy  was  included  in  the 
"  ideas  "  of  Plato,  those  intellectual  prototypes  of  classes. 
Plato  putting  the  constructive  force  of  mind  in  the  foremost 
position  conceived  of  individuals  as  only  the  variable  ex- 
pression of  a  controlling  idea ;  as  the  Madonnas  of  Eaphael 
of  a  conception  in  the  mind  of  the  artist  more  perfect  than 
any  one  of  them.  Aristotle,  more  empirical  in  his  bent  of 
mind,  did  not  accept  the  idea  as  preceding  the  individual, 
but  as  found  in  it.  He  explained  things  from  the  position 
of  the  critic  rather  than  of  the  artist.  In  the  scholastic  pe- 
riod this  discussion  gathered  heat,  both  because  of  its  own 
subtility,  and  because  of  its  relation  to  doctrines  such  as  the 
trinity  and  headship  in  Adam.  It  developed  three  leading 
opinions,  with  minor  shades  of  difference  under  them.  The 
realists,  at  first  the  more  prevalent  class,  asserted  that  the 
generic  name  expressed  real  generic  being,  of  which  indi- 
viduals are  variable  manifestations.  Thus  the  same  water 
reappears  in  many  different  waves.  The  nominalists,  whose 
earliest  representative  was  Koscelin,  and  ablest  representa- 
tive was  Occam,  affirmed  that  we  have  in  classes  only 
words  and  individuals.  The  conceptualists  declared  that  we 
have  the  general  word,  the  conception  back  of  this  word, 
and  the  individual  things  grouped  under  it.  Though  the 
controversy  lingers  to  our  time,  the  nominalists  and  concep- 
tualists prevail.  The  empirical  school  inclines  to  the  first 
opinion,  and  the  intuitional  school  to  the  second.  The 
reasons  are  obvious. 

The  empiricist  works  up  his  mental  facts  out  of  the 
impressions  of  things.  Imagination,  on  its  passive  side,  is  a 
supreme  fact  with  him.  Things  repeat  their  impressions^ 
and  these  impressions  grouped  by  association  become  the 
substance  of  knowledge.  The  common  noun  is  simply  a 
word  backed  by  many  images  instead  of  by  one   image. 


JUDGMENT,  159 

While  the  statement  of  the  conceptiialist  seems  to  most 
minds  simple  and  sufficient,  the  nominalist  succeeds  in 
obscuring  the  subject  afresh  by  an  appeal  to  the  imagina- 
tion. When  we  use  the  word  horse,  it  is  said,  we  cannot 
.  realize  the  idea  back  of  it,  save  under  the  image  of  some 
individual  horse.  The  word  then  differs  only  from  Buceph- 
alus in  calling  up  many  images  instead  of  a  single  image. 
But  this  is  the  difference  between  the  names,  John  Smith 
and  Martin  Yan  Buren.  It  seems  plain  that  the  mind  can 
and  does  proceed  without  the  accompanying  imagery  of  the 
imagination,  and  that  the  fact  of  images  is  not  the  entire 
fact  of  classification,  nor  the  very  gist  of  it.  If  we  know 
things  only  by  perception  and  imagination,  the  nominalist 
is  correct ;  but  the  entire  reconstruction  of  the  world 
through  language,  by  which  the  thoughts  pass  away  from 
and  transcend  the  senses,  is  in  contradiction  of  the  assertion. 
It  is  sometimes  said,  that  we  cannot  think  without  lan- 
guage. This  would  be  true  under  nominalism,  since  words 
and  things  make  up  the  sum  of  being,  and  w^e  must  handle 
either  one  or  the  other.  Yet  it  is  not  true,  the  thought 
always  precedes  by  a  little  the  word,  and  words  follow  on 
to  hold  the  ground  gained.  There  is  no  more  certain  dis- 
tinction than  that  between  words  and  the  meaning:  of 
words,  the  one  giving  occasion  to  the  other.  If  common 
nouns  have  meaning,  and  that  meaning  is  present  to  the 
mind,  the  conceptualist  is  correct.  The  by-play  of  the 
imagination  does  not  alter  the  primary  fact.  The  mind 
passes  rapidly  through  page  after  page  of  abstract  terms, 
and  scarcely  reverts  once  to  any  illustrative  images.  It 
has  not,  therefore,  been  unoccupied,  or  occupied  only  with 
words.  The  mind  in  judgment  gets  as  certain  a  hold  of  if 
single  qualities,  as  it  does  in  the  senses  of  concrete  groups.  ' 
Take  such  a  relation  as  that  expressed  by  the  conjunction 
in  the  sentences,  You   or  I  must  do  it,  You  and  I  must 


// 


!i 


160  UNDERSTANDING. 

do  it ;  the  mind  notes  tliem  at  once,  and  shapes  its  appre- 
hension to  them  at  once,  withont  the  aid  of  any  image. 
Indeed,  no  image  exactly  covers  them.  The  whole  ques- 
tion resolves  itself  into  the  reality  and  validity  of  the  proc- 
esses of  mind,  expressed  in  abstraction,  generalization,  con- 
ception. Have  we  here  a  power  of  mind,  or  only  the 
grouping  of  images  ? 

§  11.  Before  proceeding  to  speak  more  fully  on  the  ex- 
act office  of  judgment,  I  wish  to  draw  attention  to  one  or 
two  erroneous  views  becoming  increasingly  prevalent  con- 
cerning it.  Says  Sir  William  Hamilton,  "  Consciousness, 
necessarily  involves  a  judgment ;  and  as  every  act  of  mind 
is  an  act  of  consciousness,  every  act  of  mind  consequently 
involves  a  judgment.  A  consciousness  is  necessarily  the 
consciousness  of  a  determinate  something,  and  we  cannot 
be  conscious  of  anything  without  virtually  affirming  its  ex- 
istence, that  is  judging  it  to  be.  Consciousness  is  thus  pri- 
marily a  judgment  or  affirmation  of  existence."  These  as- 
sertions are  much  too  broad  ;  especially  so  for  the  philoso- 
phy of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  that  we  directly  know  the 
object  of  perception  as  external.  All  matter  in  conscious- 
ness may  become  a  subject  of  judgments ;  if  it  is  thought 
about,  it  must  become  such  a  subject.  But  there  is  no  ab- 
solute necessity  that  it  should,  by  the  judgment,  be  made 
an  object  of  attention ;  that  this  faculty  should  play  upon 
it ;  that  it  should  more  than  quietly  flow  through  the  organ 
of  sensation  without  producing  any  action  of  mind  beyond 
simple  perception.  To  say  that  mere,  pure  perception  is  a 
judgment,  that  "  consciouness  is  primarily  a  judgment,"  is 
an  affirmation  wrong  in  form,  since  consciousness  is  the  con- 
dition of  mental  action,  and  not  the  action  itself ;  and  erro- 
neous in  idea,  since  it  virtually  merges  all  mental  acts  or 
powers  in  one.  If  perception  is  primarily  a  judgment,  so 
is  feeling,  so  is  memory,  since  out  of  each  of  these  acts,  by 


JUDGMENT.  101 

the  same  method,  a  judgment  can  easily  and  instantly  be 
constructed. 

Percei^tion  as  perception  is  distinct  from  judgment,  and 
may  exist  without  it.  There  is  nothing  in  the  one  which 
necessarilv  involves  the  other :  though  in  the  rational  mind 
the  one  ffives  constant  occasion  to  the  other.  Moments  of 
perception  may  be  moments  in  w^hich  objects  come  and  go 
with  no  thoughtful  attention  directed  to  them ;  they  are  left 
to  expire  in  the  sensual  impression  they  are  for  the  instant 
makino;.  In  the  case  of  the  brute,  is  not  this  the  habitual 
attitude  of  mind,  the  field  of  consciousness  occupied  with 
sensations  with  no  reflection  on  them,  or  interpretation  of 
them  \  Why  speak  at  all  of  the  power  of  perception,  if,  in 
later  analysis,  we  purpose  to  resolve  it  into  judgment? 
What  may  instantly  spring  from  an  act  and  the  act  itself 
are  very  different. 

What  also  becomes  of  Hamilton's  doctrine,  that  "  per- 
ception affords  us  the  knowledge  of  the  non-ego  at  the 
point  of  sense,"  under  this  farther  assertion,  that  "  con- 
sciousness is  primarily  a  judgment  or  affirmation  of  exist- 
ence." Is  such  a  judgment  involved  in  the  perception  of 
an  object?  If  so,  we  have  not  the  doctrine  of  direct,  exter- 
nal perception,  but  rather  the  view  given  by  us  of  the  in- 
ferential existence  of  the  outer  world.  The  two  views 
would  be  identical,  save  that  we  do  not  affirm,  that  each 
single  perception  compels,  or  in  that  sense  involves,  the 
formal  or  actual  inference  to  real,  outside  existence.  It 
only  gives  a  ground  or  occasion  for  such  conclusion,  which 
may,  or  may  not,  in  a  specific  case,  be  made.  If,  how- 
ever, we  do  perceive  simply  and  purely  "  the  non-ego  at 
the  point  of  sense,"  then  that  act  of  perception  or  of  con- 
sciousness is  not  a  judgment,  does  not  include  one  as  its 
primary  element ;  or  the  distinction  between  judgment  and 
perception   disappears,    and  we  infer,    and  do  not  in    the 


162  UNDERSTANDING. 

ordinary  sense  perceive,  tlie  existence  of  the  external  world. 
If  an  act  of  perception,  as  such,  gives  ns  the  "  non-ego," 
we  find  no  occasion  for  an  act  of  judgment  to  do  the  same 
thing. 

The  actuality  and  externality  of  the  phenomena  are 
already  present  as  a  fruit  of  perception.  Does  not  the  diffi- 
culty lie  here,  that  Hamilton  has  given  to  perception  a  task 
impossible  to  it,  and  then,  in  later  analysis,  for  a  moment 
forgetful  of  previous  assertions,  has  made  it  to  involve  a 
judgment,  thereby  easing  it  of  its  burden,  though  at  the 
same  time  losing  the  distinction  between  these  two  acts  of 
mind  ?  The  simple  content  of  a  perceptive  organ  is  know- 
able,  for  perception  is  a  power  of  knowing.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, while  it  remains  in  the  sense  simply,  thinkable, 
because  thought  is  an  additional  action  of  judgment,  nor 
is  it  wordable,  because  words  are  the  instruments  of  thought 
and  imply  it.  The  only  confusion  here  arises  from  the 
fact,  that  the  above  assertions  apply  rather  to  the  primitive 
data  of  perception  than  to  its  acquired  elements.  These 
have  been  added  as  the  products  of  judgment. 

A  very  limited  and  objectionable  statement  of  that  in 
which  judgment  consists,  has  been  much  dwelt  on  by  Her- 
bert Spencer,  and  distinctly  enunciated  by  Alexander  Bain. 
"What  is  termed  judgment,"  says  he,  "may  consist  in  dis- 
crimination on  the  one  hand,  or  in  the  sense  of  agreement 
on  the  other :  we  determine  two  or  more  things  either  to 
differ,  or  to  agree.  It  is  impossible  to  find  any  case  of  judg- 
ing that  does  not,  in  the  last  resort,  mean  one  or  other  of 
those  two  essential  activities  of  the  intellect." — The  Sejise 
and  the  intellect  p.  329.  Says  Hamilton  :  "  What  I  have, 
therefore,  to  prove  is,  in  the  first  place,  that  comparison  is 
supposed  in  every,  the  simplest  act  of  knowledge :  in  the 
second,  that  our  factitiously  simple,  our  factitiously  complex, 
our  abstract  and  our  generalized  notions,  are  all  merely  so 


JUDGMENT.  163 

many  products  of  comparisou :  in  the  third,  that  judgment, 
in  the  fourth,  that  reasoning,  is  identical  with  comparison." 

That  resemblance,  or,  stated  on  both  sides,  agreement 
and  disagreement,  is  the  sole  ground  of  connection  between 
subject  and  predicate  in  a  judgment ;  that  comparison  is 
the  only  act  of  mind  involved  in  reasoning,  are  conclusions 
quite  consonant  with  a  philosophy  that  derives  all  the  data 
and  the  conditions  of  thought  from  the  phenomenal  world, 
from  perception  and  consciousness  ;  but  is  wholly  at  war 
with  a  philosophy  that  accepts  those  ideas  which  illuminate 
facts  and  make  them  intelligible  subjects  of  thought,  as  of 
supersensual  origin,  furnished  by  the  mind  itself  as  adjuncts 
of  its  comprehending  powers.  If  we  deal  purely  with  phe- 
nomena, we  can  only  compare  them,  discover  and  assert 
their  agreements  and  disagreements.  If,  then,  we  do  more 
than  this  in  judgment,  this  limited  statement  should  recoil 
against  the  system  that  puts  it  forth,  whose  ultimate  and 
consistent  product  it  undoubtedly  is.  That  all  judgments 
do  not  rest  on  resemblance  will  appear  in  the  analysis  of  the 
action  of  the  mind  in  predication — in  the  office  which 
thought  performs. 

We  believe  a  judgment  always  to  involve  the  direct  or 
indirect  application  of  a  regulative  idea  to  the  phenomena 
included  under  it,  and  this  is  its  peculiar  feature  and  oc- 
casion. Using  an  undesirable  word,  judgment  is  the  ra- 
tionalizing of  sensations,  it  is  completing  them  in  thought, 
through  those  ideas  which  the  mind  furnishes  in  making 
them  objects  of  rational  contemplation.  The  full  force  and 
proof  of  this  statement  can  not  be  easily  seen  previous  to  a 
detailed  statement  and  establishment  of  these  native  forms 
of  thought ;  yet  a  little  analysis  may  render  it  intelligible. 
Every  single  perception  admits  of  a  judgment,  which  is  the 
product  of  the  first  action  of  thought  upon  it.  This  state- 
ment has  no  two  perceptions  to  deal  with,  and  therefore  no 


164:  UNDERSTANDING. 

ground  for  a  comparison  between  tliem.  It  is  simply  an 
application  to  tlie  plienomenon  of  a  regulative  idea.  The 
finger  is  pierced.  A  single,  sharp  feeling  is  present.  We 
say,  it  is  painful ;  a  judgment  which,  restated  to  give  its 
substance  distinct  expression,  becomes.  Pain  is.  Here  the 
specific  experience  is  taken  under  the  general  notion  of  ex- 
istence, and  we  call  the  result  a  thought,  a  judgment  that 
may  be  offered  to  another  mind.  Between  the  idea  of  ex- 
istence and  that  of  pain,  there  is  no  resemblance,  for  I  could 
have  as  readily  affirmed  it  of  a  pleasure,  of  a  color,  an  odor. 
This  judgment,  the  type  of  a  large  class,  a  step  by  which 
any  experience  whatever  receives  a  form  of  statement  and 
becomes  an  intellectual  product,  is  bringing  to  a  phenomenon 
one  of  the  regulative,  formative  notions  pertinent  to  it 

But  I  might  have  said — The  pain  is  one.  The  pain  lasts. 
The  pain  is  here.  In  each  of  these  cases,  I  should  have 
brought  forward  a  different  idea,  and  affirmed  its  applica- 
tion in  a  given  form  to  the  sensation.  Now,  if  these  ideas 
are  themselves  previous  sensations,  then  the  doctrine  that 
resemblance  forms  the  substance  of  every  judgment  holds 
good,  but  not  otherwise.  If  for  instance  the  idea  of  dura- 
tion be  entirely  distinct  from  the  whole  and  every  part 
of  the  sensation  that  evokes  it,  and  is  ready  to  be  furnished 
by  the  mind  to  each  of  twenty  or  twenty  thousand  sensations 
that  endure,  in  order  that  they  may  singly  or  collectively  be 
made  intelligible  in  this  relation  of  time,  then  this  judg- 
ment. It  endures,  is  one  whose  predicate  and  subject  are 
totally  distinct  in  kind,  received  through  diverse  powers, 
and  united  in  another  relation  than  that  of  agreement  by  a 
third  power.  In  tliis  example  we  suppose  a  mastery  of 
language,  which  does  indeed  in  its  acquisition  imply  com- 
parison. This  fact,  however,  does  not  weaken  the  analytic 
proof,  since  we  can  suppose  the  judgment  to  be  present 
without  the  words  to  express  it,  or  a  present  mastery  of 


JUDGMENT.  165 

words  independent  of   the   training   wliicli  leads  to  it,  is 
essential  to  it,  though  not  to  the  very  act  of  judging.     The 
belief  which  identifies  comparison  and  judgment  must  make 
the  notion  of  time  derivable  from  a  number  of  sensations  ; 
something  in  the  sensations  themselves,  rendered  discernible 
and  comprehensible  by  repetition.     It  would  thus  follow' 
that  a  single  sensation  could  not  be  made  the  occasion  of  a 
judgment,  since  there  is  in  it  no  opportunity  for  compari- 
son.    It  is  a  unit.     The  mind  has  nothing  to  bring  to  it, 
and  it  abides  barren  in  the  organ  of  sense  alone.     The  feel- 
ino;  could  then  no  more  be  said  to  exist,  than  it  could  be 
said  to  be  unusually  intense,  since  both  assertions  are  alike 
relative.     How  Hamilton,  who  has  given  his  authority  to  a 
statement  so  alien  to  the  intuitive  philosophy,  would  dispose 
of  the  fact,  that  the  mind  puts  a  single  perception  in  the 
form  of  a  judgment,  a  point  he  especially  insists  on,  going 
so  far  as  to  say,  that  perception  necessarily  involves  judg- 
ment, is  not  evident.     In  the  first  act  of  perception,  there 
is  no  material  present  to  the  mind,  between  which  to  insti- 
tute the  comparison  said  to  be  involved  in  the  judgment, 
itself  involved  in  the  perception.     To  initiate  such  a  move- 
ment  Hamilton   w^ould  be   compelled   to   make   his   com- 
parison  between   the   pain   and   the  idea  of  number,  the 
idea  of  time,  the  idea  of  space,  the  idea  of  existence,  and 
affirm  at  this  point  a  resemblance,    a  complete   abuse    of 
the  word  comparison.     The  objects  compared  are  unlike 
in  kind,  belong  to  alien  fields,  and  do  not  admit  the  notion 
of  similar  and  dissimilar.     In  fact  they  must  admit  simi- 
larity if  either,  since  the  two  are  coupled  in  a  conjunctive 
judgment.     Only  as  we  regard  the  time,  the  unity,  the 
existence,  as  in  some  way  in  and   a  part  of  the  sensation, 
and  also  in  and  a  part  of  the  other  sensations  present  to 
the  memory,  can  we  make  these  judgments  examples  of 
comparison.     That  these  ideas  cannot  be  thus  directly  dis- 


166  UNDERSTANDING. 

covered  as  parts  of  sensation,  as  Spencer,  Mill,  and  others 
affirm,  will  be  further  seen  in  a  later  discussion.  In  this 
class,  then,  of  judgments,  which  are  statements  concerning 
single  states  of  consciousness,  it  is  evident  that  a  regulative 
idea  is  united  to  a  phenomenon,  and  the  content  of  the 
lower  organ,  so  to  speak,  taken  up  into  the  intellect.  To 
this  class  also  may  be  added  those  judgments  in  which  the 
same  idea,  as  existence,  place,  time  or  number,  is  affirmed 
of  several  phenomena ;  and  we  have  our  first  division  of 
judgments,  those  which  directly  unite  to  facts  a  regulative 
idea. 

§  12.  Another  form  of  judgment  unites  two  distinct 
objects  under  a  regulative  idea.  Of  this  character  is  the 
statement.  This  apple  is  like  that  apple.  Under  the  notion 
of  resemblance,  two  objects,  the  j)roducts  of  distinct  sen- 
sations, are  united.  Here  the  thought-process  consists  in 
bringing  the  two  together  under  a  comprehending  form 
or  rational  notion.  It  is  to  this  kind  of  judgment,  that 
Bain  and  Spencer  would  analyze  all  thought,  omitting  even 
here  the  essential  feature  of  the  act,  that  a  notion  is  in- 
tuitively seen  by  the  mind,  under  which  the  movement 
goes  forward.  A  sensation  is  complete  and  independent  in 
itself,  and  does  not  necessarily  lead  to  any  farther  state  of 
mind.  This  it  may  or  may  not  do  according  to  its  con- 
nections. In  reflex  action,  so-called,  an  inward  current, 
that  may  not  aifect  consciousness,  is  followed  by  a  physical 
force,  by  an  outer  motor  current.  This  inward  movement 
may,  as  a  sensation,  enter  consciousness,  and  may  thence  go 
forth  in  certain,  involuntary,  automatic  actions ;  or,  as  a 
sensation,  it  may  be  taken  into  the  processes  of  thought, 
be  merged  in  the  intellectual  movement,  and  reappear  as  a 
voluntary  act,  a  new  and  independent  impulse.  Kow  the 
sensations  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  two  apples,  may 
simply  and  directly,  as  in  the  case  of  a  brute,  draw  forth 


JUDGMENT.  167 

action ;  or  tliej  may  become  the  occasions  of  tliouglit,  and 
the  inquiry  be  instituted,  whether  they  are  of  one  kind,  or 
of  different  kinds.  For  the  first  result  there  are  necessarily 
present  appetites  and  senses ;  for  the  second,  rationalizing 
power,  which  is  no  other  than  the  power  to  furnish  an  idea, 
in  this  case,  that  of  resemblance,  under  which  an  inquiry 
can  be  instituted  and  a  judgment  formed.  It  is  the  exact 
office  of  the  judgment  to  apply  discriminatingly,  in  refer- 
ence to  an  end,  these  notions  to  the  objects  before  the  mind. 
The  sensations,  as  sensations  are  complete.  They  are  not 
halves ;  they  are  not  uneasy,  nettlesome,  looking  out  for 
mates;  nor  adhesive,  linked,  dragging  something  after 
them ;  nor  are  they  dove- tailed  into  thoughts,  making  their 
succession  inevitable.  They  might  lie  forever  perfectly 
quiet,  nothing  coming  of  them,  were  it  not  for  the  appetites 
below  them,  into  which  they  sink  by  physical  connections ; 
for  the  eye  of  reason  above  them,  into  whose  realm  of 
thought  they  rise,  by  the  dropping  down  upon  them  of 
judgments,  through  tentative  inquiries  prompted  by  its  own 
perception  of  invisible,  unheard,  unfelt  relations.  This 
working  up  of  sensations,  this  vitalizing  of  them  in  pro- 
cesses of  thought,  needs  solution,  as  much  so  as  the  activity 
of  chemical  elements  previously  dormant,  when  heat  is 
applied. 

We  know  an  object  as  red,  as  sour,  as  fragrant,  through 
our  respective  senses  of  sight,  taste,  and  smell.  A  judg- 
ment has  nothing  to  do  with  this  knowledge.  The  first  ob- 
ject received  in  any  sense  imparts  to  it  a  form  of  knowing, 
in  itself  ultimate  and  inexplicable.  When  we  meet  with  a 
second  object  of  a  like  kind,  we  have  no  new  sensational 
knowledge  ;  yet  we  have  an  occasion  of  a  judgment,  which 
we  did  not  have,  as  regards  the  quality,  the  flavor,  or  odor, 
or  color  in  the  first  case.  We  say  of  the  two,  They  are 
the  same.     Now  how  happens  it  that  the  second  sensation 


168  UNDERSTANDING. 

has  in  it  more  tlian  the  first,  to  wit,  this  occasion  of  a 
judgment  ?  As  sensations  they  are  alike  ;  one  is  no  more 
stimulating  than  the  other  and,  to  the  sense,  should  yield 
no  more  than  the  other. 

The  solution  lies  in  the  fact,  that  the  mind  is  able  to 
furnish  an  idea,  that  of  agreement  and  disagreement,  infus- 
ing rational  order  and  relations  into  a  plurality  of  objects, 
and  brings  it  forward  for  immediate  application,  on  this  the 
first  occasion.  Here  the  judgment  finds  its  function  and 
ofiice  to  run  between  phenomena,  and  marshal  them  under 
notions.  Of  phenomena  alone  it  could  make  nothing.  It 
must  have  its  men,  and  its  plan  of  rank  and  regiment,  and 
then  it  can  construct  an  army. 

Of  the  same  character  are  the  judgments.  This  is  higher 
than  that.  This  event  is  more  recent  than  that.  In  each 
case  objects  of  perception  are  thrown  into  relation  with  each 
other,  by  means  of  a  regulative  idea.  Many,  accepting  the 
intuitive  nature  of  the  idea  of  space,  would  easily  recognize 
the  character  of  the  judgment.  This  house  is  nearer  than 
the  mountain,  who  would  yet  fail  to  see  the  transcendental 
element  in  the  kindred  statement.  This  stone  is  like  that 
rock.  Evidently  the  mind  furnishes  the  ground  of  the 
judgment, — the  idea  of  the  relation,  as  much  in  the  one 
case  as  in  the  other.  The  present  division  of  judgments  in- 
cludes all  acts  of  classification,  and  is  a  most  numerous  one. 

The  statement,  This  action  is  right,  may  sometimes  be 
one  of  classification,  assigning  the  act  by  its  form  to  a  kind 
or  class  previously  recognized  as  right.  More  frequently, 
however,  it  is  a  judgment  of  the  first  class,  in  which  a  single 
act  is  stated  and  interpreted  under  an  intuitive  notion.  The 
notion  right  is  not  perceived  in  the  action,  but  brought  to 
it,  discerned  as  a  spiritual  factor  in  it.  If  it  liad  been  red- 
ness that  had  belonged  to  the  object,  the  mind  nmst  needs 
have  waited  for  a  second,  third,  fourth  instance  before  it 


JUDGMENT.  169 

would  liavG  said,  This  is  red :  and  then  the  assertion  would 
have  been  one  simply  of  classification.  The  perception 
gives  the  quality,  and  the  judgment  remains  quiescent  till, 
by  repetition,  it  is  called  to  the  act  of  classification.  In  the 
case  of  the  right  action,  however,  the  action  enters  through 
the  senses  without  this  quality,  simply  and  nakedly  as  an 
action,  and  the  reason  bringing  forward  a  farther  idea  for 
its  explanation  as  the  act  of  an  intelligent  and  free  being, 
the  judgment  at  once  finds  play  in  applying  it,  and  says.  It 
is  a  right  action.  This  it  might  do  should  the  mind  never 
know  another,  if  this  act  in  its  motives  and  consequences 
were  plainly  before  it.  In  the  first  class  of  judgments,  one 
limb  of  the  predication  rests  on  the  phenomenal,  the  other 
passes  over  into  the  purely  intellectual,  the  transcendental. 
Jn  the  second  class,  both  abutments  of  the  arch  press  back 
on  phenomena,  but  the  spring  and  crown  of  it  rests  in 
the  air ;  the  connection  strikes  into  and  returns  from  the 
region  above. 

There  is  a  third  class  of  judgments  of  which  the  expres- 
sion. The  heat  melts  the  wax,  is  a  type.  Here,  under  the 
notion  of  causation,  we  grapple  by  a  judgment  that  which 
physically  exists,  yet  never  directly  enters  the  phenomenal 
world.  The  mind  walks  as  one  who  travels  on  a  morass, 
the  points  of  support  are  hidden  a  little  below  the  surface. 
The  foot,  under  the  quick  suggestion  of  the  eye,  and  the 
inference  of  reasoning,  dashes  at  the  more  stable  ground, 
which  it  never  sees,  and  is  yet  able  to  find.  The  mind 
could  not  move,  did  it  not  believe  in  causes,  yet  it  never 
sees  a  cause,  or  knows  causes  save  through  effects  constantly 
attributed  to  them,  safely  expected  from  them.  It  is  not 
sufficient  that  the  mind  should  weave  the  visible  into  a 
firm  fabric  of  order  by  invisible  connections  it  alone  can 
grasp  ;  it  is  made  to  stand,  and  must  forever  stand,  and  all 
it  beholds  stand  with  it,  on  invisible,  intangible  suj^ports 


170  UNDERSTANDING. 

of  forces,  wliose  existence  it  can  verify  by  no  sense,  and 
must  leave  with  its  own  assured  conviction.     Deny  these 
supports  and   it  must  yet  seek  for  them,  and  believe  in 
them,  and  talk  about  them  every  moment  of  its  life.    These 
judgments  by  which  we  spread  the  phenomenal  over  the 
actual,  by  which  we  search  out  the  streams  of  force,  and 
feel  the  under-flow  of  divine  power,  are  among  the  most 
constant  and  radical  of  any  we  ever  make.     It  is  evident, 
however,  that  they  do  not  rest  on  resemblance  merely,  since 
the  cause  is  never  in  any  way  phenomenally  known,  save 
through  its  effects,   and  therefore  furnishes  no  hold  for  a 
comparison.     Of  course  we  mean  the  actual  cause,  and  not 
the  phenomenal  cause,  that  is  the  effect  just  previous  to 
the  effect  under  consideration.     We  mean  the  very  heat 
and  not  the  taper,  which  is  itself  in  its   visible  form  an 
effect,  and  not  a  cause.     In  the  third  form  of  judgment  we 
unite  the  sensible  and  the  transient  to  the  insensible  and 
permanent  through  a  pure  intuitive  movement  of   mind. 
What  was  understood  to  be,  also  understood  in  relation  to 
other  things  that  are,  is  now  referred  to  hidden  sources  or 
causes.     We  do  this  under  two  notions.    That  of  causation 
and  that  of  spontaneity.     In  this  third  class  of  judgments 
we  refer  effects  to  causes  and  acts  to  agents.     It  is  then 
the  general  office  of  judgment  to  unite  the  phenomenal  and 
the  intuitive,    the   perceptive   and  the   purely   intuitional 
elements  of  mind,  in  the  rational  apprehension  and  use  of 
the  former.    Eeasoning  is  the  interlock  of  these  judgments, 
a  chain  of  these  conclusions  by  which  remote  points   are 
united,  and  discloses  therefore  no  new  power. 

§  13.  Before  passing  from  the  judgment,  we  wish  to 
mark  a  second  use  of  the  word  conceive,  leadinor  to  further 
obscurity.  By  a  statement,  that  an  idea,  for  instance  that 
of  infinity,  is  inconceivable,  seems  sometimes  to  be  meant, 
tliat  the  judgment  cannot  grapple  it,  that    it  can  not  be 


JUDGMENT.  ITl 

wrapt  about  sufficiently  with  logical  relations,  worked  up  as 
material  in  the  processes  of  thought.  Yery  well ;  the  judg- 
ment deals  with  the  phenomenal  under  ideas,  and  therefore 
a  notion  not  phenomenal,  and  not  calling  for  the  interpre- 
tation of  a  farther  idea,  is  not  material  for  the  judgment. 
The  judgment  ought  not  to  be  able  to  handle  it ;  if  it  were 
able,  a  phenomenal  element  would  therein  appear,  destruc- 
tive of  its  pure  intuitional  character.  The  query  still  re- 
mains, however,  whether  such  an  idea  may  not  be  validly 
presented  to  the  intuitive  power  set  apart  for  its  apprehen- 
sion, given  to  perform  this  very  service?  The 'incogita- 
bility '  of  a  thing  may  be  proof  of  its  nature,  though  not 
necessarily  of  its  reality  or  want  of  reality. 

We  are  now  able  to  see  something  of  the  relation  of  the 
understanding  to  the  entire  mental  furniture,  and  also  of 
the  three  powers  which  compose  it  to  each  other.  The 
understanding  plays  between  the  intuitive  parts  of  our 
nature,  the  physical  perceptions  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
spiritual  intuitions  on  the  other.  "With  no  absolute  final 
comprehension  of  either,  it  interlocks  them,  and  comes  to 
a  definite  knowledge  of  their  relations.  This  knowledge 
of  connections  seems  to  us  more  satisfactory  than  that  of 
qualities  in  perception,  or  of  ideas  in  intuition.  We  try  to 
make  a  color,  an  odor  or  the  notion  of  existence,  an  object  of 
reflection,  and  can  do  little  or  nothing  with  it.  As  sim]3le 
and  primitive,  it  eludes  those  relations  which  we  are  so 
diligent  in  establishing  between  objects,  and  the  mind, 
perplexed  by  its  inability  to  fasten  and  weave  the  web  of 
thought,  is  ready  to  feel  that  there  is  here  no  real  knowl- 
edge ;  forgetful  that  an  organ  of  sense,  or  an  intuition  gives 
a  new  and  final  form  of  knowing.  All  knowledge  is  good 
and  adequate,  if  we  know  enough  to  recognize  and  accept  it. 
The  understanding  furnishes  us  a  knowledge  of  relations. 

The  judgment,  like  a  busy  shuttle,  flies  between   the 


1T2  UNDERSTANDING. 

loose,  parallel,  independent  lines  of  phenomenal  being,  bears 
with  it  the  interlacing  thread  of  intuition,  and  shortly 
weaves  all  into  a  firm,  coherent  fabric,  a  system  of  things. 
The  steadfastness  and  permanence  of  the  work  are  secured 
by  memory,  while  its  brilliancy,  the  vividness  of  its  color- 
ing, arise  from  imagination.  We  thus  seem  to  see  some 
reason  why  these  faculties,  and  no  others,  are  called  for. 
The  judgment,  under  the  eye  of  reason,  knits  together  facts 
into  relations,  which  make  them  significant  and  intelligible, 
which  show  them  to  be  a  system  of  things ;  the  memory 
stands  by  to  proffer  the  facts,  and  store  the  fabric ;  while 
the  imagination  dips  again  in  living  colors  these  shadow 
products  of  the  mind,  as  the  sun  saturates  the  cloud  with 
its  own  hues. 

§  14.  There  are  very  important  laws  of  thought  in 
connection  with  the  understanding  of  which  but  slight  men- 
tion has  so  far  been  made,  those  of  association. 

Association  is  brought  forward  to  explain  many  pro- 
cesses of  mind ;  we  believe  that  association  is  rather  the 
result  of  these  processes.  Ideas,  images  are  not  associated 
in  the  mind  otherwise  than  as  it  itself  binds  them  too^etlier. 
Reflections  in  a  mirror  gain  no  coherence,  have  no  power 
to  restore  each  other.  Aside  from  the  analogy  of  physical 
habit,  which  is  of  narrow,  indirect  application  to  mental 
phenomena,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  ideas  as  ideas 
can  maintain  a  sequence  among  themselves,  the  first  idea 
bringing  with  it  the  second,  the  second  the  third.  It  is 
judgment,  memory,  imagination  that  separately  or  in  com- 
bination restore  ideas  and  images ;  in  these  faculties,  not  in 
themselves,  are  found  the  laws  of  coherence.  Involution, 
causation,  resemblance  are  the  primary  connections  of  judg- 
ment, and  time  and  place  of  the  imagination  and  memory. 
AYhen  Hamilton  resolves  the  laws  of  association  first  into 
simultaneity  and  afiinity,  and  then  into  the  one  law  of  re- 


ASSOCIATION.  l'?3 

dintegratlon  he  is  not  stating  an  ultimate  force  acting  be- 
tween ideas,  but  is  falling  back  on  the  memory  and  judg- 
ment, and  later  on  memory  alone.  Things  once  together  in 
the  mind  are  restored  again  to  this  first  relation  by  virtue  of 
memory.  This  restoration  is  memory,  and  is  not  to  be  ex- 
plained by  a  power  of  images  over  the  mind,  but  of  the 
mind  over  images. 

Association,  greatly  enlarged  as  an  explanatory  doctrine 
by  Heartly,  has  been  increasingly  brought  forward  by  later 
writers  as  an  all-inclusive  law  of  mental  phenomena.  Taine 
goes  so  far  as  to  speak  of  the  anterior  and  posterior  portions 
of  an  idea,  and  ideas  are  made  to  arrange  themselves  and 
adhesively  drag  themselves  through  the  mind,  quite  passive 
in  reference  to  them.  Spencer,  in  his  Data  of  Ethics,  p.  109 
makes  this  concise  restatement  of  mental  processes.  "  The 
first  of  these  elements,  originally  an  excitement,  becomes 
a  sim^Dle  sensation ;  then  a  compound  sensation ;  then  a 
cluster  of  partially  presentative  and  partially  representative 
sensations,  forming  an  incipient  emotion;  then  a  cluster  of 
exclusively  ideal  or  representative  sensations,  forming  an 
emotion  proper ;  then  a  cluster  of  such  clusters,  forming  a 
compound  emotion ;  and  eventually  becomes  a  still  more 
involved  emotion  composed  of  the  ideal  forms  of  such  com- 
pound emotions."  Mental  powers  have  disappeared  in  be- 
half of  some  assumed  coherence  among  the  molecular  con- 
stituents and  movements  of  ideas;  and  obscure  physical 
images  have  taken  the  place  of  clear  mental  facts.  This 
power  of  association  among  images  can  in  no  way  be  ex- 
plained except  by  referring  it  to  cerebral  states,  that  in  some 
way  collocate  and  continue  themselves.  But  these  alleged 
facts  are  unknown,  obscure,  inexplicable  ;  far  more  so  than 
the  facts  they  are  brought  forward  to  illuminate.  We 
know  of  no  distinct  coherence  of  nervous  states  that  can  be 
plausibly  offered  as  the  exact  equivalents  of  logical  pro- 


174  UNDERSTANDING. 

cesses.  The  connections  between  stimuli,  sensations  and 
muscular  action  are  not  of  this  order.  Nor,  if  we  were 
aware  of  such  special  dependencies,  could  these  be  pre- 
sented to  explain  the  connections  of  thought.  Ideas  mani- 
festly cohere  as  ideas  in  the  mind  by  the  mind's  action ; 
they  are  not  seen  to  follow  each  other  by  a  physical  link. 
There  are  in  this  doctrine  of  association,  as  very  generally 
held,  a  wonderful  displacement  of  plain  facts  by  obscure 
ones,  an  astonishing  assumption  of  facts,  and  a  strange  in- 
sufficiency in  the  expositions  offered. 

The  law  of  association,  now  so  omnipotent  in  philoso- 
phy, has  grown  up  slowly  in  connection  with  that  empirical 
tendency  which  more  and  more  divests  the  mind  of  power, 
and  accumulates  within  it  a  series  of  impressions  that  carry 
with  them  their  own  connections.  This  philosophy  should 
be  able,  first,  to  show  clearly  and  certainly  that  a  given  cere- 
bral state  is  the  precise  equivalent  of  a  given  mental  one, 
and  its  immediate  cause.  Nothing  approximating  this  has 
been  done  in  a  single  instance.  It  should  then  show  that 
these  cerebral  states  have  cerebral  laws,  by  wdiich  they  com- 
bine with  and  follow  each  other ;  and,  third,  that  these  phys- 
ical connections  are  the  exact  equivalents  and  causes  of  the 
various  relations  of  thoughts,  feelings,  and  volitions  to  each 
other.  Tliis  work  has  not  been  so  much  as  entered  on. 
The  law  of  association  is  left  regnant  when  no  sufficient 
ground  of  connection  has  been  disclosed  between  cerebral 
facts  and  mental  facts,  and  even  while  the  cerebral  facts 
themselves  are  purely  theoretical.  If  all  this  had  been  done, 
we  should  have  simply  a  physical  or  organic  philosoi^hy  in 
place  of  a  mental  one  ;  but  it  has  not  been  done.  Ideas, 
thoughts,  feelings,  volitions  are  intangible,  have  no  power 
over  each  other  or  relation  to  each  other  save  those  intanjyi- 
ble  ones  which  the  mind  itself,  in  evoking  them,  imparts  to 
them.     The  mind  makes  a  feeling  to  be  a  feeling,  and  so 


ASSOCIATION, 


175 


gives  it  its  energy.  The  logical  insight  discloses  the  logical 
relation,  and  so  welds  the  conclusion  to  its  premises.  Thus 
also  the  memory  renews  those  impalpable,  vanished  rela- 
tions expressed  by  place  and  time,  and,  in  doing  so,  sets 
things  once  more  as  they  were. 

The   primary  powers   in   association   are   memory  and 
judgment.     Memory  restores  things  as  they  have  been  phe- 
nominally  offered  to  us  under  the  connections  of  time  and 
place.     Judgment  unites  images  and  ideas  by  the  relations 
of  resemblance,   causation,  involution.      The  imagination, 
working  with  both  these  faculties,  combines  its  images  un- 
der all  applicable  ideas.     We  have  thus,  as  expressing  the 
relation  of  ideas  to  each  other  under  the  force  of  memory, 
the  law  of  contiguity ;  and  under  the  force  of  judgment, 
the  law  of  affinity  or  congenesis  ;  and  under  the  energy  of 
the  imagination,  the  law  of  congruity,  a  combined  and  soft- 
ened application  of  the  other  two.     The  laws  of  association 
are  convenient  as  forms  of  expression,  as  rendering  relations 
on  their  objective  side  which  are  due  to  the  hidden  energies 
of  mind.     But  when  these  laws  are  spoken  of  and  applied 
as  ultimate,  they  become  another  of  those  many  disguises  of 
words  by   which   sequences  are  put  for  forces,  and  state- 
ments for  reasons.      The  question  involved  is  one  again  of 
the  nature  of  mind.     The  seat  of  energy  is  transferred  from 
mind  to  the  products  of  mind. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

The   Reason. 

§  1.  We  have  now  readied  an  action  of  mind,  a  faculty, 
whose  existence  is  strenuously  denied.  Most  able  and 
thorough  thinkers,  patient  inquirers  within  the  field  of  phi- 
losophy itself,  with  a  host  of  scientific  investigators  who 
bring  with  them  predilections  and  rea,sonings  suited  to  other 
departments,  regard  this  furniture  of  intuitive  ideas  as 
wholly  fabulous,  as  an  unnecessary  assumption  in  the  ex- 
j)lanation  of  plienomena  entirely  intelligible  without  it. 
Yet  there  is  in  philosophy  no  point  of  more  importance,  of 
more  wide-reaching  infiuence  than  this ;  and  that,  too,  not 
merely  in  the  department  itself,  but  in  its  social  and  moral 
and  religious  bearings.  It  is  vain  to  strive  to  disconnect 
social  and  religious  issues  from  mental  science.  The  in- 
stitutions of  society  and  the  commands  •  of  God  have  man 
for  their  subject,  and  neither  their  defects  nor  their  excel- 
lences can  be  understood  without  a  knowledge  of  his  nature. 
Indeed,  the  very  character  of  those  notions  on  which  duty 
turns— of  right  and  of  liberty — are  here  brought  under  dis- 
cussion ;  and  also  the  validity  of  those  conceptions  and  that 
reasoning  on  which  the  existence  and  government  of  God 
repose  in  our  thouglits.  The  past  attachments  of  our  na- 
ture, its  present  powers  and  future  hopes,  are  all  involved 
in  these  investigations  of  pliilosophy,  and  more  especially 
in  that  brancli  of  them  which  settles  the  original  endow- 
ments of  mind,  and  the  degree  of  its  dependence  on  the 
external  world.     Indeed  what  is  meant  by  the  external  and 


DIVERSITY  OF  OPINION.  177 

internal  worlds,  and  wlietlier  either  or  both  of  tliem  can 
furnish  a  valid  proof  of  their  being,  are  inquiries  that  are 
now  to  find  settlement,  or  to  be  left  unsolved  doubts,  unex- 
plained fears,  ultimate  mysteries,  drifting  athwart  the  mind, 
restricting  its  spiritual  vision,  and  displacing  its  cheerful 
surface-life  with  the  shadows  of  deep,  despairing  clouds. 

Yet  these  discussions  are  as  subtile  and  perplexing  as 
they  are  important ;  and  moreover  are  looked  on  by  patient 
plodders  amid  facts — most  influential  and  serviceable  men 
— as  ho]3eless  and  futile.  They  regard  these  labors  as  the 
mere  money-maker  would  regard  another  expedition  to  the 
North  Pole.  The  whole  region,  to  the  purely  scientific 
mind,  seems  one  of  chimeras,  not  dire  only  because  in- 
creasing wisdom  enables  us  to  laugh  at  them.  Ghosts  are  al- 
ways unproductive,  and  ta  men  ridiculous.  The  only  touch 
of  kindly  sentiment  that  the  student  of  natural  science  has 
on  this  subject,  is  the  regret  that  so  many  are  still  found  to 
waste  a  hope  or  a  fear  on  such  airy  existences ;  are  yet 
unwilling  to  confront  daylight  with  open  eyes,  instead  of 
owling  in  invisible  regions  for  invisible  things.  In  these 
fields  of  difiicult  and  abstruse  inquiry,  we  shall  need  to 
work  our  way  slowly  and  patiently,  confronting  our  adver- 
saries fairly,  ourselves  convinced  of  the  importance  of  the 
truths  here  hidden ;  sanguine  as  to  the  power  of  the  mind 
to  push  and  answer  the  questions  most  intimate  to  its  own 
destin}',  and  repelling  the  scorn  of  ignorance  with  the 
silence  of  settled  conviction ;  knowing  that  if  ours  or 
another's  keel  shall  ever  touch  the  distant  shores  of  truth, 
shall  ever  add  to  the  hemisphere  of  matter  that  of  mind, 
the  question,  Who  are  fools  ?  will  be  easily  settled. 

The  ideas  in  dispute  have  received  various  designations. 
They  have  been  termed  innate  ideas,  regulative  ideas,  intui- 
tive ideas,  a  priori  ideas,  categorical  ideas,  and  also  have 
been  regarded  as  forms  of  thought,  entirely  independent  of 


178  REASON. 

the  objects  or  matter  of  thoiiglit.  Some  of  these  are  very 
faulty  methods  of  expression,  especially  if  adhered  to  as 
complete  in  themselves  to  the  exclusion  of  other  methods. 
Indeed,  no  one  word  or  expression  is  perfectly  applicable 
to  any  one  of  these  ideas,  and  the  relation  of  the  mind  to 
it ;  much  less  is  such  a  word  sufficient  to  characterize  all  of 
them,  varying  as  they  do,  intrinsically,  and  in  their  connec- 
tions with  the  phenomena  explained  by  them.  One  seems 
to  inhere  like  a  quality,  as  right  in  action  ;  another  to  be  a 
condition,  as  space  to  the  objects  in  it ;  another  to  be  the 
manner  in  which  the  mind  regards  the  things  to  which  it 
applies,  as  number  in  connection  with  the  objects  num- 
bered. No  single  expression,  therefore,  can  be  analyzed, 
no  particular  words  tortured  to  disclose  more  exactly  what 
is  meant  by  an  intuitive  idea.  In  each  case  the  relation 
itself  must  be  contemplated,  and  the  word  be  shaped  to 
the  fact,  rather  than  the  fact  be  learned  by  the  word. 

We  do  not  understand  by  this  doctrine  of  innate  ideas, 
that  the  mind  finds  in  itself  a  notion  as  a  realized  mental 
product,  and  applies  this  to  the  facts  before  it;  nor  that 
there  is  in  thought  certain  forms  or  directions  of  movement 
from  which  it  cannot  depart,  and  under  which  it  works  up 
the  material  brought  to  it.  We  understand  rather  that  in 
the  facts,  on  the  occasion  of  the  facts,  the  mind,  not  the 
senses,  discerns  relations  by  which  it  is  able  to  explain 
them,  to  think  concerning  them,  and  this  by  means  of  a 
certain  rational  power  which  it  brings  with  it,  or  finds 
evoked  under  the  conditions  of  the  problem  before  it.  Kor 
do  we  affirm  that  these  notions  come  necessarily  and  at 
once  to  every  mind  on  every  occasion  intrinsically  fitted 
for  them ;  but  that  they  each  and  all  do  find,  sooner  or 
later,  an  occasion  on  which  they  do  arise,  and  that  there  is 
in  them  a  furnishing  by  the  mind  itself  of  other  and  higher 
material  of  thought  than  the  senses  alone  can  supply.     In 


'', 


EXISTENCE.  :■'  /,         ^"?;> 

other  words,  tliere  is  called  out,  in  the  inwlecUi^l  hafidK^g        /^' 
of  the  facts  of  the  world  revealed  in  perception /^d  coi^/,  / 

sciousness,  a  new  power  of  mind,  which  we  term  the  reAson,     ^^ 
furnishing  rational  ideas  and  grounds  of  procedure,  and'ei)- , 
abling  the  judgment  to  operate  on  the  otherwise  stubborn,  -/ 
irreducible  sensations  present.     The  existence  and  office  of 
a  portion  of  these  ideas  all  philosophers  admit ;  they  are  at 
variance  only  as  to  their  source  and  nature — a  variance 
which  leads  to  the  denial  of  the  remaining  and  most  es- 
sential ones.     The  notions  of  space  and  of  time,  traced  to 
an  empirical  source,  prepare  the  way  for  a  denial  of  right 
and  liberty  in  their  transcendent  character. 

The  term,  innate,  was  an  early  and  unfortunate  one,  as 
it  seems  to  imply  an  inborn  product  rather  than  a  primitive 
power.  The  word,  regulative,  as  also  the  word,  categorical, 
find  application  to  these  ideas  as  bringing  with  them  into 
knowledge  fundamental  lines  of  order.  The  adjective,  in- 
tuitive, indicates  the  directness  with  which  they  arise,  like 
an  object  of  sense  ;  while  they  are  termed  a  priori  as  logi- 
cally preceding  the  experience  they  expound.  An  occasion 
being  given,  each  idea  arises  at  once  as  the  condition  of  its 
apprehension.  These  ideas  are  either  denied  by  the  empiri- 
cist, as  that  of  liberty ;  or  differently  referred,  as  that  of 
space  ;  or  modified,  as  that  of  right. 

We  shall  now  proceed  to  take  up  these  ideas  one  by 
one,  both  to  establish  the  whole  class  and  each  member  of 
it  singly.  In  doing  this,  we  shall  not  hesitate  to  repeat  the 
argument  in  each  case,  so  far  as  it  presents  any  new  features. 
The  general  doctrine  of  intuitive  ideas  is  maintained  if  any 
one  of  them  holds  its  ground,  though  for  its  successful  and 
thorough  application,  the  exact  number  and  nature  of  these 
notions  must  be  known. 

§  2.  The  first  of  them  is  that  of  existence.  This  has 
drawn  forth  less  discussion  than  some  others,  and  does  not 


180  REASON. 

therefore  afford  the  best  ground  on  which  to  meet  the  op- 
posmg  views.  The  affirmation  is,  that  in  the  presence  of 
sensations,  perceptions,  the  mind  comes  at  some  moment  to 
say,  These  are ;  or,  involving  another  idea,  that  of  causa- 
tion, to  say.  The  object  occasioning  them  is.  When  this 
act  of  mind  does  take  place,  there  is  proof  in  it  of  a  double 
activity  aside  from  that  of  the  judgment  —  an  activity  fur- 
nishing the  perception,  and  a  second  activity  supplying  the 
predicate.  Can  the  judgment  be  made  without  both  of 
these  conditional  activities  ?  Can  the  three  be  resolved  into 
two,  or  one  ?  We  answer,  no.  The  judgment  can  do  noth- 
ing with  a  naked  sensation.  It  is  to  this  higher  faculty, 
lumber  without  tools.  The  sensation  can  yield  nothing  but 
mere  feeling.  Feeling,  as  feeling  is  complete  in  itself,  and 
may  as  well  repose  in  the  sensational  structure  of  an  oyster, 
as  in  that  of  a  man.  The  judgment  alone  can  add  nothing 
to  that  which  it  is  to  handle ;  for  if  it  does,  you  therein  as- 
sign it  a  double  office,  that  of  reason  and  judgment,  that  of 
calling  forth  the  predicate,  and  of  coupling  it  with  the  an- 
tecedent. 

A  sensation  and  the  notion  of  existence  involved  there- 
in, or  better,  evoked  thereby,  are  very  different.  I  see  no 
reason  why  the  one  may  not  be  experienced  indefinitely 
without,  in  and  by  itself,  giving  rise  to  the  other.  Indeed 
we,  with  our  rational  powers  even,  are  constantly  enjoying 
or  suffering  sensations  without  affirming,  or  thinking  of 
their  existence.  This  notion  is  present  only  as  the  mind 
from  time  to  time  is  brought  directly  to  contemplate  them. 
There  is  no  latent  judgment  of  their  existence  in  clearly  ex- 
perienced, but  not  definitely  thought  of,  sensations,  in  any 
other  way  than  that  the  mind  may,  at  any  moment,  have  its 
attention  directed  to  them,  call  them  before  itself  for  con- 
templation, and  then  be  led  to  affirm  their  existence,  under 
this  mode  of  regarding  them.     A  cloud  is  above  the  earth, 


EXISTENCE.  181 

and  tlie  mind  may  so  decide  at  any  instant :  but  tliere  Is  no 
latent  decision  to  that  effect  in  the  simple  act  of  seeing  a 
cloud,  only  the  possibility  of  one. 

As  the  opposite  view  has  not  here  received  that  com- 
plete and  exhaustive  statement  which  we  shall  find  of  it 
under  space  and  time,  we  can  not  to  the  best  advantage,  con- 
trovert it.     We  merely  remark,  that  it  seems  to  confound 
the  sensation  with  the  idea.     This  it  does  partly  perhaps 
through  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  consciousness.     It  is  not 
an  unusual  or  very  harsh  form  of  expression  to  say,  I  am 
conscious  that  the  odor  exists,  while  the  affirmation,  I  smell 
that  it  exists,  is  obviously  inadmissible.     Yet  for  philoso- 
phical purposes  the  last  expression  has  all  the  breadth  that 
can  be  allowed  the  first.     Consciousness  only  reports  the 
sensation,  is  as  broad  as  the  sensation,  and  this  is  fully  ex- 
pressed in  the  verb,  smell.     We  are  not  then  conscious  of 
the  being  of   an  odor,  unless  we  smell  that  being.     The 
words  conscious,  consciousness  have  so  enlarged  their  mean- 
ing as  to  be  regarded  as  the  ground  of  that  which  is  known, 
when  that  knowledge  springs  from  a  judgment,  and  is  thus 
referable  to  a  reflective  and  not  intuitive  faculty.     We  are 
conscious  of  a  sensation  in  no  other  sense  than  that  we  are 
conscious  of  the  sensation,  and  also  of  the  intuition  and 
judgment  by  which  existence  is  referred  to  it.     These  three 
acts  are  separate  sources  of  separate  elements  in  the  joint 
product.  This  odor  is.     Consciousness  is  nothing  in  itself, 
nothing  additional,  but  is  the  common  and  pervasive  condi- 
tion of  each  of  these  acts  as  of  every  act  of  mind.     No 
knowledge  can  be  referred  to  consciousness  which  is  not 
farther,  more  explicitly,  referable  to    some  given  specific 
power  of  mind,  and  the  power  of  mind  yielding  the  notion 
of  existence  is  the  one  here  insisted  on,  the  reason. 

Says  Bain,  "  The  sum  total  of  all  the  occasions  for  put- 
ting forth  active  energy,  or  for  conceiving  this  possible  to 


182  REASON. 

be  put  forth,  is  our  external  world."  {The  Senses  and  the 
Intellect,  page  380.)  In  this  and  the  accompanying  pas- 
sages, the  sensations  of  resistance,  rather  than  the  sugges- 
tions and  interpretations  of  those  sensations,  are  kept  upper- 
most, and  thus  the  action  of  the  reason  concealed  under 
that  of  the  senses  and  the  judgment.  But  "  occasions " 
are  occasions  to  the  mind,  and  thus  become  the  conditions 
of  a  knowledge  not  found  in  the  simple  sensations  which 
compose  them. 

The  judgment  of  existence  does  find  its  chief  signifi- 
cance in  connection  with  the  experience  and  exercise  of 
force,  since  here,  united  with  that  of  causation,  it  leads  to 
the  telling  affirmation  of  the  noumenon,  the  permanent 
being,  underlying  the  phenomenal,  material  world ;  and  also 
of  the  spirit,  the  abiding  source  of  changed  and  changing 
mental  states.  To  affirm  phenomenal  existence  seems  a 
merely  formal  act  beside  the  doubly  pregnant  one  by  w^hich 
we  go  deeper  than  coiisiousness  inward,  farther  than  con- 
sciousness outward,  and  fill  supersensual  regions  w^ith  super- 
sensual  forms  of  being.  Phenomena  are  known  directly, 
and  thus  directly  yielded  in  consciousness ;  but  now  the 
conditions  of  a  judgment  are  found  which  penetrates  be- 
yond appearances,  and  affirms  permanent  and  unphenom- 
enal  existence,  a  fact  incapable  of  experimental  verifica- 
tion, and  thus  of  appearing  directly  in  consciousness.  We 
are  conscious  of  judgments,  not  of  their  truth. 

We  refer  then  this  idea  of  existence  to  an  independent 
faculty,  the  reason ;  because  it  is  not  in  the  sensation  as  a 
sensation,  nor  to  be  secured  by  a  passive  flow  from  sensa- 
tion to  sensation,  each  equally  destitute  of  it ;  but  is  found 
first  and  fully  in  the  incipient  action  of  mind,  when  it 
begins  to  deal  with  and  handle  its  hitherto  unobserved 
experiences.  This  judgment  is  too  habitually  involved  in 
our   experience   to   be    ordinarily    significant,   but   to   one 


NUMBER.  183 

waking  from  syncope,  it  may  become  a  most  momentous 
conclusion. 

§  3.  The  second  regulative  idea  is  that  of  number. 
This,  like  that  of  existence,  is  so  simple  and  direct,  so  con- 
stantly merged  in  the  very  perception  to  which  it  is  at- 
tached, as  to  have  called  forth  little  discussion,  and  made 
but  slight  claims  for  explanation  on  sensualistic  schools  of 
philosophy.  Language  also  favors  this  oversight.  I  see 
one  apple,  I  hear  several  sounds,  I  feel  three  distinct  points, 
are  examples  of  familiar  expressions.  We  cover  directly 
by  verbs  of  sensation,  their  objects  and  the  numerical  rela- 
tions of  those  objects.  Yet  it  is  evident,  that  we  do  not 
see  an  object  to  be  one.  The  numerical  notion  is  brought 
to  the  mass  of  colors  before  us  as  one  of  the  ways  in  which 
the  mind  may  regard  it.  Indeed,  the  same  object  differently 
contemplated,  yields  a  great  variety  of  numerical  relations, 
the  sensations  remaining  exactly  the  same.  It  may  present 
several  colors,  and  while,  therefore,  we  call  it  one  in  cohe- 
sive connection,  we  may  separate  it  into  a  multiplicity  of 
parts  by  diversity  of  shades,  or  by  outstanding  members,  or 
by  relative  position.  An  object  of  regular  outline  and 
uniform  color  may  still  yield  a  plurality  of  parts  through 
the  unit  of  measurement  we  apply  to  its  lines,  angles, 
surfaces.  The  mind  plays  upon  it  with  standards  of  its 
own,  divides  it  with  various  linear  and  solid  measurements, 
finds  with  each  a  diverse  numerical  expression,  and  terms 
it  now  one,  now  many,  as  suits  the  purposes  of  thought. 
All  this  is  not  a  simple  action  of  the  senses ;  nor  any  more 
is  it  when  the  incipient  step  of  the  process  is  taken  by 
roughly  calling  the  v/hole  one  thing.  The  color  is  seen, 
the  hardness  is  felt,  the  odor  is  smelt,  and  the  sources  of 
each  are  regarded  as  one  object,  or  more  than  one,  as  the 
mind  chances  to  contemplate  it,  bringing  to  it  one  or  an- 
other of  various  combining  ideas.     There  is  no  object  of 


184:  REASON. 

sense  wliich  is  not  in  some  relation  one,  as  a  tree,  a  grove, 
a  forest,  a  world,  a  universe;  and  none  which  may  not  be 
divided  and  thus  yield  pluralit}^  I^ow  this  action  of  the 
judgment  and  attention  must  all  go  on  under  the  notion  of 
number,  and,  till  this  is  furnished,  all  objects  must  remain 
undistinguished  either  as  single  or  manifold.  Objects  of 
sense  may  reach  the  mind  without  drawing  from  it  a 
numerical  estimate.  One  may  gather  berries  without  re- 
garding the  number  taken  or  left,  though  both  be  clearly 
seen.  Distinction  in  the  senses  is  not  distinction  in  the 
intellect,  and  does  not  necessitate  it ;  any  more  than  dis- 
tinction in  existence  is  distinction  in  thouo^ht.  A  dozen 
calls  may  bring  a  dog,  though  he  has  taken  no  note  of  them 
as  a  dozen.  Articulate  sounds  may  convey  the  designed 
thought  to  the  mind,  a  thought  dependent  on  the  exact 
number  of  elements,  without  attention  directed  to  them  as 
twenty,  less  or  more. 

This  separable  character  of  number  from  the  objects 
perceived,  is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  two  impressions  on  the 
senses,  as  on  the  eyes  of  men,  or  many,  as  on  the  eye  of  an 
insect,  become  one  object  in  the  intellect ;  and  still  more 
strongly  in  the  fact,  that  numbers  are  treated  independently 
in  arithmetic  and  algebra,  are  accumulated  in  amounts 
entirely  beyond  experience,  and  are  divided  and  com- 
pounded by  processes  not  founded  on  observation,  or 
proved  by  it ;  but  which  belong  to  the  necessary  character 
of  numerical  conceptions.  Our  powerful  algebraic  solvents 
are  general  formulae,  are  wrought  out  w^holly  independently 
of  things,  and  are  brought  to  explain  outside  facts  other- 
wise numerically  unintelligible.  Thus  most  evident  is  it, 
that  in  the  more  abtruse  application  of  numbers,  as  to 
curves  and  to  complex  motion,  phenomena  receive  their  so- 
lution from  the  numerical  conception  and  do  not,  through 
the  senses,  yield  it.     Moreover,  these  estimates  arc  reached 


RESEMBLANCE.  185 

by  an  arbitrary  supposition  of  an  equality  of  units  never 
found  in  experience.  One  pound  is  regarded  as  absolutely 
equivalent  to  every  other  pound  of  the  same  denomination ; 
one  foot,  one  mile,  to  the  like  measurements  elsewhere. 
To  fix  on  standard  units,  in  which  the  approximation  to 
equality  is  sufficiently  close  to  enable  us  safely  to  neglect 
errors,  is  a  large  share  of  the  difficulty  in  mixed  mathemat- 
ics, and  only  when  we  deal  with  pure  conceptions,  as  with 
that  of  space  in  geometry,  do  our  numerical  processes  show 
their  full  power,  stretching  an  unimpeded  wing  in  realms 
as  airy  as  themselves.  Existence  and  number  are  among 
the  most  general  of  our  notions,  finding  inherent,  and,  to  a 
rational  mind,  necessary,  application  everywhere. 

We  regard  the  idea  of  number  as  one  brought  by  the 
mind  to  things,  (1)  because  the  thing  considered  remain- 
ing the  same,  numbers  may  be  applied  to  it  in  many  differ- 
ent ways ;  (2)  because  distinctions  in  the  senses  which  are 
naturally  an  occasion  for  the  notion  of  number  do  not  nec- 
essarily call  it  out ;  (3)  because  it  is  applied  to  things  not 
objects  of  sensation ;  (4)  because  it  assumes  an  absolute 
equality  of  units ;  (5)  and  because  abstract  numerical  pro- 
cesses wholly  transcend  experience. 

§  4.  The  next  regulative  idea  we  offer  is  that  of  resem- 
blance. This  idea,  though  recognized  by  Plato,  has  been 
very  frequently  overlooked,  and  with  great  injury  to  the 
arguments  sustaining  the  Intuitive  Philosophy.  It  has 
been  quietly  assumed  that  resemblance  is  a  matter  of  sen- 
sation only,  that  in  it  exclusively  are  given  the  data  of  this 
category,  that  one  color  is  seen  to  be  like  or  unlike  an- 
other ;  one  taste  tasted  as  like  or  unlike  a  succeeding  one. 
We  might  as  well  claim  the  judgment  in  which  this  rela- 
tion is  expressed  to  be  an  act  of  sense.  Green,  red,  sweet, 
sour,  are  known  as  qualities  by  sensation,  and  here  the 
sense  pauses.    The  eye  sees  a  green  color  once,  twice,  thrice. 


186  REASON. 

but  it  makes  no  comparison,  institutes  no  judgment,  recalls 
no  impressions.  These,  the  labors  of  other  intellectual 
powers,  must  commence  and  go  on  in  the  light,  and  this 
light  is  that  of  an  interpreting  idea.  What  is  resemblance  ? 
It  is  not  the  red  in  the  apple  ;  no  more  is  it  the  red  on  the 
leaf ;  no  more  is  it  these  two  sensations  united  in  time  and 
place.  It  is  a  specific  relation  between  the  two,  intelligible 
as  a  given  case  of  a  general  notion.  Can  the  specific  rela- 
tion l3e  first  reached,  and  the  general  idea  be  deduced  from 
it  ?  ]S'o  !  As  a  relation  it  is  an  intellectual  product,  an  in- 
tuition, two  sensations  explained  in  their  bearings  on  each 
other  under  an  idea.  The  sensations  alone  do  not  contain 
in  their  sensational  matter  the  relation, — if  they  did,  each 
should  contain  it  entire,  or  each  a  part  of  it^ — and  can  not 
furnish  it,  nor  can  the  intellectual  movement  proceed  with- 
out the  forecasting  apprehension,  the  head-light.  Moreover, 
the  specific  relation  must  express  the  general  relation,  or 
that  relation  cannot  be  deduced  from  it.  Resemblance  is 
intellectually  involved  in  the  first  instance  of  it ;  and,  as  it 
is  not  a  sensation,  it  must  be  involved  for  the  direct  appre- 
hension of  the  mind  there  present  for  its  interpretation.  It 
is  not  the  result  of  the  judgment  which  expresses  it,  but  an 
element  and  ground  of  that  judgment.  There  are  sensible 
and  supersensual  data  for  the  declaration.  The  leaf  is  like 
the  apple. 

The  frequent  over-sight  of  this  fact  has  greatly  embar- 
rassed the  discussion  between  the  two  schools  of  philos- 
ophy. The  idea  of  resemblance  has  been  quietly  appro- 
23riated.  The  observation  of  agreements  and  disagreements 
has  been  allowed  to  proceed  as  if  it  were  purely  a  matter  of 
perception,  and  thus  a  play  of  mind  has  been  secured,  a 
germ  of  judgment,  a  nucleus  of  thinking,  with  no  recog- 
nized a  priori  material.  From  the  elements  of  intellectual 
action  thus  secured,  it  has  been  comparatively  easy,  by  pa- 


RESEMBLANCE.  187 

tient  composition  and  slight  oversight,  similar  to  that  which 
characterized  the  first  step,  to  broaden  the  grounds  of 
thought,  and  to  surreptitiously  include  one  after  another  of 
its  essential  conditions.  This  process  is  arrested  at  the  out- 
set, if  we  reclaim,  as  we  should,  the  idea  of  resemblance. 
No  generalization  can  go  forward  w^ithout  it,  and  the  fic- 
titious growth  of  regulative  ideas  is  checked  at  once.  We 
can  not,  for  instance,  compare  sensations  as  co-existent  or  as 
successive,  and  under  the  one  agreement  smuggle  in  the 
idea  of  space,  and  under  the  other  that  of  time.  We  are 
left,  as  w^e  should  be,  standing  on  sensations  alone  ;  knowing 
color,  odor,  taste,  but  with  no  opportunity  for  comparison, 
classification,  generalization,  as  we  have  no  luminous  idea 
under  which  a  movement  of  thought  is  made  visible. 

There  must  be  a  little  play  given  to  thinking  some- 
where, in  some  direction,  under  some  notion,  before  it  can 
work  out  anything  whatever ;  before  it  can  acquire  momen- 
tum, institute  a  process,  and,  in  the  superficial  movement 
established,  give  apparent  ground  for  the  true  connections 
of  thought.  The  sensations  are  indeed  present  as  the  ma- 
terial of  thought,  the  judgment  is  w^aiting  as  the  agent  of 
thought ;  but  there  is  no  plan  of  thought,  no  direction  of 
thought,  no  space  or  orderly  way  wherein  thought  can  find 
exercise,  till  some  notion,  most  frequently  this  of  resem- 
blance, is  furnished.  The  axe  cannot  cut  while  it  is  pressed 
close  against  the  timber ;  tools  are  of  no  avail  packed  tightly 
in  a  chest.  Give  the  hatchet  the  play  of  an  inch,  and  with 
patience  and  an  increasing  sweep,  it  will  at  length  hew  for 
itself  a  broad  path.  Scope  must  be  granted  for  wielding 
a  weapon.  One  after  another  the  implements  must  be 
loosened  from  their  lodgment,  and  to  initiate  this  move- 
ment, room^  the  ground  and  condition  of  effort,  must  be 
granted.  So  must  room,  an  idea  under  which  to  move,  be 
given  to  the  very  first  judgment,  before  generalization  is 


188  REASON. 

possible,  and  the  one  stolen  for  tliis  purpose,  is  tliat  of 
resemblance. 

Resemblance  is  an  intuitive  idea,  (1)  because  tlie  like- 
ness in  two  things  compared  is  not  in  the  first,  nor  yet  in 
the  second,  as  objects  of  sensation ;  (2)  because  the  direc- 
tion of  the  comparison  must  be  indicated  before  the  com- 
parison is  made  ;  and  (3)  because  each  case  of  resemblance, 
though  holding  between  specific  qualities,  is  yet  only  a 
particular  apj)lication  of  a  general  idea.  The  general  here 
expounds  the  particular,  and  not  the  particular  the  general, 
as  in  generalization  under  the  senses. 

§  5.  A  fourth  intuitive  idea  is  that  of  space.  This  has 
drawn  much  attention  and  been  one  of  the  centres  of  dis- 
cussion betw^een  the  different  schools  of  philosophy.  Space, 
as  immaterial  and  exterior  to  the  objects  of  perception, 
can  not  be  directl}^  referred  to  the  senses,  or  lost  sight  of  in 
that  which  is  furnished  by  them.  It  is  not,  like  existence^ 
the  very  thing  itself  as  it  were,  or  like  number,  the  in- 
separable form  of  it,  but  stands  an  antecedent  and  inde- 
pendent condition  of  the  objects  it  contains.  The  deriva- 
tion of  this  idea  has  therefore  been  assiduously  labored  over 
by  philosophers  who  accept  no  intuitive  faculties  beyond 
those  of  perception.  Herbert  Spencer  has  given  this  subject 
a  statement  considered  highly  satisfactory  and  conclusive  by 
those  who  share  his  general  view.  We  w411  take  from  his 
Principles  of  Psychology  sufficient  matter  fairly  to  present 
his  conclusions.  Those  who  wish  the  entire  argument  by 
w^hich  they  are  supported  we  refer  to  the  above  work.  It 
is  impossible  for  us  to  do  more  than  present  its  initial 
features. 

"  Imagine  that  an  immense  number  of  fingers  could  be 
packed  side  by  side,  so  that  their  ends  made  a  flat  surface ; 
and  that  each  of  them  had  a  separate  nervous  connection 
with  the  same  sensorium.     If  anything  were  laid  upon  the 


SPACE.  189 

flat  surface  formed  by  those  finger  ends,  an  impression  of 
touch  could  be  given  to  a  certain  number  of  them — a  num- 
ber great  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  thing.  And  if 
two  things  successively  laid  uj^on  them,  differed  not  only 
in  size  but  in  shape,  there  would  be  a  difference  not  only 
in  the  number  of  the  finger-ends  affected,  but  also  in  the 
kind  of  combination.  But  now,  what  would  be  the  inter- 
pretation of  any  impression  thus  produced,  wdiile,  as  yet, 
no  experiences  had  been  accumulated  \  Would  there  be 
any  idea  of  extension?  I  think  not.  To  simplify  the 
question,  let  the  first  object  laid  on  these  finger-ends,  be  a 
straight  stick ;  and  let  us  name  the  two  finger-ends  on 
w^hich  its  extremes  lie,  A  and  Z.  If  now  it  be  said  that  the 
length  of  the  stick  will  be  perceived,  it  is  implied  that  the 
distance  between  A  and  Z  is  already  known,  or,  in  other 
words,  that  there  is  a  pre-existent  idea  of  a  special  exten- 
sion, which  is  absurd.  If  it  be  said  that  the  extension  is 
implied  by  the  simultaneous  excitation  of  B,  C,  D,  E,  F, 
and  all  the  fingers  between  A  and  Z,  the  difficulty  is  not 
escaped ;  for  no  idea  can  arise  from  the  simultaneous  ex- 
citement of  these,  unless  there  is  a  knowledge  of  their 
relative  positions ;  which  is  itself  a  knowledge  of  extension. 
By  what  process,  then,  can  the  length  of  the  stick  become 
known  ?  It  can  become  known  only  after  the  accumulation 
of  certain  experiences,  by  which  the  series  and  fingers 
between  A  and  Z  become  known.  If  the  whole  mass  of 
fingers  admits  of  being  moved  bodily,  as  the  retina  does ; 
and  if  by  virtue  of  its  movements,  something  now  touched 
by  finger  A  is  next  touched  by  finger  B,  next  by  C,  and  so 
on ;  and  if  these  experiences  are  so  multiplied  by  motions 
in  all  directions,  that  between  the  touching  by  finger  A 
and  by  any  other  finger,  the  number  of  intermediate 
touches  that  will  be  felt  is  known ;  then  the  distance  be- 
tween A  and  Z  can  be  known — known,  that  is,  as  a  series 


190  REASON. 

of  states  of  consciousness  produced  by  tlie  successive  touch- 
ing of  the  intermediate  fingers — a  series  of  states  compara- 
ble with  any  other  such  series,  and  capable  of  being  es- 
timated as  greater  or  less.  And  when  by  numberless 
repetitions  the  relation  between  any  one  finger  and  each  of 
the  others  is  established,  and  can  be  represented  to  the 
mind  as  a  series  of  a  given  length,  then  we  may  understand 
how  a  stick  laid  upon  the  surface,  so  as  to  touch  all  the 
fingers  from  A  to  Z  inclusive,  will  be  taken  as  equivalent 
to  the  series  A  to  Z — how  the  shnnltaneous  excitation  of 
the  entire  range  of  fingers,  will  come  to  stand  for  its  sey'ial 
excitation — how  thus,  objects  laid  upon  the  surface  will 
come  to  be  distinguished  from  each  other  by  the  relative 
length  of  the  series  they  cover,  or  when  broad  as  well  as 
long,  by  the  groups  of  series  which  they  cover — and  how 
by  habit  these  simultaneous  excitations,  from  being  at  first 
known  indirectly  by  translation  into  the  serial  ones,  will 
come  to  be  known  directly,  and  the  serial  ones  will  be 
forgotten,  just  as  in  childhood  the  words  of  a  new  language, 
at  first  understood  by  means  of  their  equivalents  in  the 
mother  tongue,  are  presently  understood  by  themselves ; 
and  if  used  to  the  exclusion  of  the  mother  tongue,  lead  to 
the  ultimate  loss  of  it.  The  greatly  magnified  apparatus 
here  described,  being  reduced  to  its  original  shape  —  the 
surface  of  the  finger-ends  being  diminished  to  the  size  of 
the  retina,  the  things  laid  upon  that  surface  being  under- 
stood as  the  images  cast  upon  the  retina,  and  its  movements 
in  contact  with  these  things  as  the  movements  of  the  retina 
relatively  to  the  images  —  some  conception  will  be  formed 
of  one  part  of  the  process  by  which  our  ideas  of  visual 
extension  are  gained." — Pages  221-2-3. 

The  difference  between  the  view  we  wish  to  enforce, 
and  that  presented  in  this  passage,  lies  here  :  Do  we  inter- 
pret the  experience  here  detailed  by  a  notion  of  space,  of 


SPACE.  101 

extension — for  tlie  one  involves  the  otlier — at  some  instant 
evoked  by  it,  or  do  we,  at  its  conclitsion^  as  its  result,  finally 
eliminate  sncli  a  notion  ?  This  may  seem  a  slight  differ- 
ence, yet  it  is  a  fundamental  one.  We  give  a  further  quo- 
tation in  completion  of  the  above.  "  How,  through  experi- 
ences of  occupied  extension  or  body,  can  we  ever  gain  the 
notion  of  unoccupied  extension  or  space  ?  How  from  the 
perception  of  a  relation  between  resistant  positions,  do  we 
progress  to  a  perception  of  a  relation  between  non-resistant 
positions  ?  If  all  the  space  attributes  of  body  are  resolvable 
into  relations  of  position  between  subject  and  object,  dis- 
closed in  the  act  of  touch — if,  originally,  relative  position  is 
only  thus  knowable — if  therefore  position  is,  to  the  nascent 
intelligence,  incognizable  except  as  the  position  of  some- 
thing that  produces  an  impression  on  the  organism,  how  is 
it  possible  for  the  idea  of  position  ever  to  be  disassociated 
from  that  of  body  ?  How  can  the  germinal  notion  of  empty 
extension  ever  be  gained? 

This  problem,  though  apparently  difficult  of  solution,  is 
really  a  very  easy  one.  If,  after  some  particular  motion  of 
a  limb,  there  invariably  came  a  sensation  of  softness,  after 
some  other  one  of  roughness,  after  some  other  one  of  hard- 
ness— or  if,  after  those  movements  of  the  eye  needed  for 
some  special  act  of  vision,  there  always  came  a  sensation  of 
redness,  after  some  other  a  sensation  of  blueness  ;  and  so  on 
— it  is  manifest  that,  in  conformity  with  the  known  laws  of 
association,  there  would  be  established  a  constant  relation 
between  such  notions  and  such  sensations.  If  positions 
were  conceived  at  all,  they  would  be  conceived  as  invariably 
occupied  by  things  producing  special  impressions,  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to  disassociate  the  positions  from  the 
things.  But  as,  in  our  experience,  we  find  that  a  certain 
movement  of  the  hand  which  once  brought  the  finger  in 
contact  with  something  hot,  now  brings  it  in  contact  with 


192  REASON. 

something  sliai*p,  and  now  witli  nothing  at  all ;  and  that  a 
certain  movement  of  the  eye,  which  once  was  followed  by 
the  sight  of  a  black  object,  is  now  followed  by  the  sight  of 
a  white  object,  and  now  by  the  sight  of  no  object ;  it  results 
that  the  idea  of  the  particulai'  position  accompanying  each 
one  of  these  movements,  is,  by  accumulated  experiences, 
disassociated  from  objects  and  impressions,  and  comes  to  be 
conceived  by  itself  ;  it  results  that  as  there  are  endless  such 
movements,  there  come  to  be  endless  such  positions  con- 
ceived as  existing  apart  from  body,  and  it  results  that,  as 
in  the  first,  and  in  every  subsequent  act  of  perception,  each 
position  is  known  as  co-existent  with  the  subject,  there 
arises  a  consciousness  of  endless  such  co-existent  positions ; 
that  is,  of  space." — Pages  233-4. 

We  find,  in  our  criticism  of  this  passage,  fatal  defects 
of  method  involved  (1)  in  the  assumption  of  the  idea  of 
resemblance,  and  (2)  that  also  of  time,  the  experiences  con- 
sidered being  known  as  serial ;  also  (3)  in  the  fact  that  in 
putting  these  experiences  on  different  finger-ends,  Spen- 
cer uses  a  significant  feature  which  is  yet  without  signifi- 
cance in  the  experiment  contemplated  since  the  mind  is  sup- 
posed to  be  unable  to  note  the  relation  involved  ;  and  (-i)  in 
the  fact  that  in  making  the  simultaneous  excitation  stand 

CD 

for  and  represent  the  serial  excitation,  he  is  merely  substi- 
tuting a  section  of  time,  already  assumed,  for  that  of  space. 
The  force  of  the  third  point  w^ill  be  seen,  if  we  consider  a 
circle  of  an  inch  between  the  shoulders.  Touching  succes- 
sively such  a  circle  in  various  parts,  we  not  being  able  in 
sensation  to  distinguish  its  parts,  would  give  us  no  clue  to 
the  extent  of  the  surface  involved. 

We  hold  that  these  experiences  must  call  forth  at  some 
point  the  idea  of  space,  as  the  light  under  which  compre- 
hension must  commence  and  proceed,  and  that  they  can  not 
close  with  a  half-formed  generalization  waiting  farther  ex- 


SPAOE.  193 

perience  to  grow  into  knowledge.     Till  this  idea  is  evoked, 
every  movement  will,  in  its  special  relations,  be  utterly  un- 
intelligible, provoking   indeed   no   attention  ;    after   it    is 
evoked,  these  movements  will  but  make  it  the  more  definite 
and  precise  in  its  application.     Take  the  illustration  offered 
by  Spencer.     Let  a  stick  rest  on  imaginery  finger-ends,  by 
its  two  extremities,  designated  A  and  Z.     Can  that  fact 
alone  call  forth  the  idea  of  space  ?     We  think  it  may,  pro- 
vided the  mind  is  ready  to  know  it  as  a  fact,  and  to  recog- 
nize two  mutually  excluding   positions   in   sensation.      It 
would  evidently  be  thus  interpreted  at  once  by  the  adult 
mind,  and  a  farther  movement  of  the  fingers  would  only  be 
be  sought  after  as  giving  confirmation  to  the  fact  of  two 
mutually  exclusive  sensations,  and  as  furnishing  a  distinct 
estimate  of  the  distance  between  the  two  points.     The  ob- 
jection expressed  by  Spencer  in  the  words,  "  If  now  it  be 
said  that  the  length  of  the  stick  will  be  perceived,  it  is  im- 
plied that  the  distance  between  A  and  Z  is  already  known  ; 
or  in  other  words,  that  there  is  a  pre-existent  idea  of  special 
extension,  which  is  absurd,"  has  no  particular  force ;  for  it 
only  holds  against  the  assertion,  that  the  space  A  Z  is  not 
merely  recognized  as  a  space,  but  accurately  known  in  its 
dimensions.     This  knowledge,  our  latest  adult  experience 
fails  to  give  us,  and  certainly  a  general  notion  of  some  space 
must  go  before   this,  its  careful  estimate.      Spencer   con- 
founds intuitions  with  generalizations  of  the  senses.     In 
these  the  particular  does  precede  the  general,  the  sweet- 
ness of  honey  or  of  sugar  the  notion  of  sweetness.     It  is 
not  so  in  intuitive  ideas ;  here  the  general  precedes  the  par- 
ticular, the  notion  of  space  that  of  a  given  distance,  the  no- 
tion of  time  that  of  the  time  of  day.     Here  is  a  fundamen- 
tal difference  between  the  two,  which  Spencer  overlooks. 

If  the  points  A  and  Z  are  recognized  as  distinct,  accord- 
ing  to  the  comparison  on  distinct  finger-ends,  or   in   the 


191  REASON. 

sense  of  sight,  which  these  multiplied  points  of  touch  are 
intended  to  illustrate,  at  different  parts  of  the  retina — then 
this  simple  experience  of  sensations,  at  diverse  positions 
excluding  each  other,  can  only  find  apprehension  by  and 
through  the  comprehending  idea  of  space.  Only  under  this 
fact  of  space  can  the  phenomena  occur ;  only  by  it  can  they 
be  understood  for  what  they  are,  and  there  are  no  possible 
steps  toward  their  solution,  till  this  first  idea  is  present,  as 
an  apprehension  of  the  conditions  of  the  problem.  If  the 
sensations  are  not  known  as  in  position,  and  in  distinct  posi- 
tions, then  there  is  not  yet  the  germ  of  suggestion,  the 
rudiments  of  inquiry;  if  they  are  so  known,  there  is  al- 
ready present  the  initiatory  knowledge  of  space. 

Let  us  suppose,  with  Spencer,  this  notion  to  be  wanting, 
that  we  have  sensations  at  A  and  Z,  and  at  such  other  inter- 
vening points  as  we  choose,  and  yet  have  not  any  sugges- 
tion therein  of  position  or  extension.  The  mind  remains 
perfectly  quiet. 

The  sensations  as  sensations  merely  lie  in  consciousness, 
but  in  their  space-relations  no  attention  is  directed  to  them, 
or  evoked  by  them.  Exactly  the  same  mental  state  might 
remain  when  the  sensations  should  change  by  becoming 
serial,  by  alternating  backward  and  forward  on  successive 
finger-points,  by  furnishing  in  any  w^ay  farther  data  of  that 
exact  knowled2:e  which  the  first  data  had  done  nothino^  to 
call  fortli.  The  images  in  a  mirror  may  lie  still,  or  move 
among  themselves,  and  in  neither  case  is  any  comprehension 
of  them  made  necessary  to  the  mirror.  No  more  would 
there  be  if  the  mirror  were  simply  and  permanently  con- 
scious of  them  as  sensations.  Suppose,  however,  the  atten- 
tion of  the  mind  is  awakened  and  directed  to  this  move- 
ment. How  alone  can  it  hegin  to  understand  and  explain 
the  facts  before  it,  except  by  applying  the  notion  of  sj^ace, 
now  so  strongly  plucked  at  among  its  comprehensive  sol- 


SPACE.  195 

vents  ?  If  "  numberless  repetitions  "  are  requisite,  that  is, 
if  an  entire  series  of  movements  can  be  closed  and  the  mind 
still  remain  without  the  idea, — remain  quiescent,  dead,  mir- 
ror-like, holding  distinct  sensations  in  distinct  special  rela- 
tions without  knowing  them  as  distinct,  reaching  no  judg- 
ment— then  a  second,  a  third,  a  fiftieth  repetition,  as  mere 
repetition,  having  the  light  of  no  new  idea  cast  upon  it, 
may  leave  the  mind,  nay,  must  leave  the  mind,  unless  at 
some  point  it  be  awakened  to  a  new  method,  as  quiescent 
and  dark  as  at  the  outset. 

The  only  ground  on  which  any  other  conclusion  is  pos- 
sible is,  that  space  is  not  an  idea,  but  literally  a  series  of 
sensations ;  or  at  least  a  sensational  fact  or  quality  general- 
ized from  a  series  of  experiences,  as  sweetness  is  a  quality 
separated  clearly  by  repetition  from  other  qualities,  red,  a 
color  distinguished  by  repeated  observation  from  other  col- 
ors. In  these  cases  the  reiterated  sensation  enables  us  to 
distinguish  and  abstract  its  peculiar  quality. 

Absurd  and  impossible  as  this  view  of  space,  that  it  is  a 
quality  of  sensation,  seems  to  us  to  be,  we  believe  that  it 
lurks  in  the  arguments  and  statements  of  the  sensational 
school.  Thus,  in  the  passage  given  above,  it  is  "  the  serial 
excitations,"  which  are  identified  with  the  notion  of  space, 
and  are  made  by  association  to  underlie  and  explain  "  the 
simultaneous  excitations."  In  fact,  however,  the  one  set  of 
phenomena  no  more  requires  the  explanation  of  the  idea 
than  the  other,  no  more  contains  it  than  the  other.  It  is 
merely  because  there  is  in  the  first  a  variation  of  the  sensa- 
tions, that  they  give  or  rather  seem  to  give,  a  foothold  to 
explanation  not  found  in  the  second.  Yet  this  change  must 
be  observed  in  the  very  quality  of  the  sensations  and  not  in 
the  relation  of  the  sensations,  or  no  ground  of  exposition  is 
afforded  by  Spencer.  Relations  are  intellectually  seen,  the 
qualities  alone  are  a  matter  of  perception.    Elsewhere  Spen. 


196  REASON. 

cer  speaks  of  the  "  sense  of  ability  to  tnove^'^  ^'  tlie  sense  of 
freedom  for  motions^''  as  a  constituent  in  our  idea  of  &pace. 
Observe  that  this  ability,  this  freedom,  are  not  spoken  of  as 
something  exj^lained  under  the  idea,  but  as  a  constituent  of 
the  idea. 

Bain  says  yet  more  explicitly :  "  Extension  or  space  as 
a  quality  has  no  oilier  origin  and  no  other  meaning  than  the 
association  of  these  different  sensitive  and  motor  effects." 
Mark  the  words  quality  and  no  other  meaning.  Again, 
''  The  mental  conception  that  we  have  of  empty  sjDace  is 
scojDC  for  movement,  the  possibility  of  potentiality  of  move- 
ment ;  and  this  conception  we  derive  from  our  experience 
of  movements." — The  Senses  and  the  Intellect.^ p.  378.  How 
is  it  as  to  the  interstellar,  or  the  intermolecular  spaces  ? 
What  has  experience  to  say  concerning  these  ?  Do  we  in 
them  derive  our  belief  of  space  from  the  changed  sensations 
of  motion  ?  Bain  proceeds  still  farther.  "  By  such  steps 
as  I  have  endeavored  to  describe,  we  derive  our  notion  of 
extended  tliino:s,  of  extension  in  the  concrete.  And  from 
this  we  can  obtain  an  abstract  notion  of  the  extended  in  the 
same  manner  as  we  gain  any  other  abstract  notion,  as  color, 
heat  or  justice."  This  can  only  be  true  if  our  knowledge 
of  space,  like  our  knowledge  of  heat  and  color,  is  a  sensa- 
tion; and  this  belief,  not  explicitly  stated,  underlies  logi- 
cally the  sensualistic  philosophy.  The  doctrine  that  space 
is  a  sensation  or  "  quality  "  of  sensations,  or  a  series  or  con- 
catenation of  sensations,  or  in  any  way  an  immediate  prod- 
uct of  sensation,  we  are  willing  to  leave  without  argument 
to  the  refutation  of  simple  statement.  It  would  thus  sink 
wholly  from  the  intellectual  field,  and,  if  allowed  to  drag 
other  kindred  ideas  with  it,  would  leave  neither  occasion 
nor  opportunity  for  any  other  faculty  than  that  of  percep- 
tion. Sensations  lie  together,  and  need  no  conjunction  by 
the  judgment ;  and  as  for  any  notions  wherewith  the  mind 


SPACE.  197 

is  to  comprehend  and  classify  them,  there  are  none  ;  tliose 
thought  to  be  such,  are  themselves  sensations.  Feel  your 
way,  feel  on  and  feel  ever,  would  be  the  comprehensive  di- 
rection to  a  being — we  can  scarcely  say  mind,  for  the  mind 
is  now  resolved  into  mere  sensibility  —  so  formed.  Feel 
space,  feel  time,  feel  number,  and  look  to  your  finger-ends 
for  liberty  and  right,  or  eternally  lose  them. 

Let  lis  carefully  guard  against  one  point  of  misappre- 
hension. We  say  nothing  as  to  any  definite  time  in  the 
progress  of  the  infant  in  which  the  idea  of  space  wdll  arise. 
Sensations  as  sensations  may  come  and  go,  we  know  not 
how  long,  without  evoking  the  idea;  but  when  it  does 
come,  it  will  come  at  once  from  within  ;  not  in  an  abstract, 
discriminated  form,  but  in  a  concrete,  obscure  application, 
and  prepare  the  way  for  a  new  series  of  intellectual  actions. 
All  precise  estimates  and  measurements  are,  of  course,  the 
sole  fruit  of  experience,  and  give  the  infant  mind  abun- 
dant occupation  under  this  regulative  idea. 

One  may  study  geometry  with  little  or  no  abstract  con- 
sideration of  space  as  space,  yet  the  idea  is  tacitly  present 
everywhere.  The  child  may  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
position  and  dimension  of  its  own  memlpers,  with  no  direc- 
tion of  the  mind  to  the  notion  of  space  as  such,  though 
that  idea  quietly  informs  the  whole  process. 

In  the  second  of  the  longer  quotations  above  given  from 
Spencer,  we  have  the  notion  of  space,  empty  space,  de- 
rived from  a  vacant  organ  of  sense.  Direct  the  mind 
steadily  to  this  point.  An  organ,  as  the  finger-end,  or  the 
eye,  with  no  content  of  sensation  in  it,  a  simple  blank,  is 
one  thing ;  and  this  fact  accounted  for  and  explained  to 
the  mind  by  the  idea  of  empty  space  is  quite  another.  If 
the  first,  generalized  in  any  way  he  pleases,  is  Spencer's 
idea  of  space,  then  that  idea  consists  in  the  mere  absence 
of  sensation,  and  should  exist  in  the  highest  degree  in  con- 


198  REASON. 

nectioii  with  paralyzed  organs.  A  recognition  of  blindness, 
or  even  deafness,  should  be  one  of  space.  If,  however, 
the  fact  of  a  vacant  organ  becomes  significant  only  in 
connection  with  a  process  of  mind,  we  wish  to  know  under 
what  guiding  clue  that  process  proceeds.  What  is  brought 
to  the  explanation  of  the  fact  of  motion  without  sensation  ? 
It  seems  to  us  that  but  one  answer  can  be  given— space. 
This  conception  as  absolutely  simple  must  come,  when  it 
comes,  in  (1)  a  complete  form ;  coming  completely,  it  must 
come  (2)  suddenly  ;  and,  (3)  till  it  comes,  no  experience  is 
intelligible  under  it. 

Spencer,  with  the  marked  approval  of  Bain,  makes,  in 
another  phase  of  the  argument,  the  notion  of  space  depend- 
ent on  co-existence,  and  co-existence  the  fruit  of  experience. 

"  ]^ot  only  is  it  that  the  idea  of  space  involves  the  idea 
of  CO- existence,  but  it  is  that  the  idea  of  co-existence  in- 
volves the  idea  of  sj^ace.  Fundamentally  space  and  co- 
existence are  two  sides  of  the  same  cognition.*' 

"  On  the  one  hand  space  can  not  be  thought  of  without 
co-existent  positions  being  thought  of ;  on  the  other  hand 
co-existence  can  not  be  thought  of  without  at  least  two 
points  in  space  being  thought  of.  A  relation  of  co-existence 
implies  two  somethings  that  co-exist.  Two  somethings 
can  not  occupy  absolutely  the  same  point  in  space.  And 
hence  co-existence  implies  space.  Space  can  be  known  only 
as  presenting  relations  of  o-existence  ;  relations  of  co-exist- 
ence can  be  known  only  as  presented  in  space." 

"  If  now  it  should  turn  out  under  an  ultimate  analysis — 
that  a  relation  of  co-existence  is  not  directly  cognizable,  but 
is  cognizable  only  by  a  duplex  act  of  thought — only  by  a 
comparison  of  experiences  ;  the  question  between  the  trans- 
cendentalists  and  their  op[>onents  will  be  set  finally  at  rest. 
When  after  it  has  been  shown  as  above,  that  our  cognition 
of  space  in  its  totality  is  explicable  upon  the  experience  hy- 


SPACE.  109 

potliesis,  and  that  all  the  peculiarities  of  tlie  cognition  cor- 
respond to  that  hypothesis,  it  comes  to  be  shown  tliat  tlie 
ultimate  elements  into  which  that  cognition  is  decomjiosable 
— the  relation  of  co-existence — can  itself  be  gained  only  by 
experience — the  utter  untenableness  of  the  Kantian  doc- 
trine will  become  manifest." — Pages  24:3-4. 

Herein  our  author  hardly  agrees  with  himself,  having 
insisted  that  the  co-existent  points.  A,  B,  Z,  can  not  give  the 
idea  of  extension,  though  it  now  turns  out  that  a  knowl- 
edge of  their  co-existence  would  have  been  essentially  a 
knowledge  of  space.  AYe  believe  (1)  that  the  notion  of  any 
simple  position  involves  that  of  space,  is  explained  under 
it,  and  therefore  that  a  single  sensation  of  touch,  complex 
indeed,  yet  regarded  as  simple,  might  call  forth  the  idea. 
This  we  do  not  care  to  dwell  on,  as  it  is  doubtless  in  con- 
nection with  many  simultaneous  and  serial  phenomena, 
presented  in  several  senses,  that  the  notion  actually  does 
arise.  We  can  not  accept  the  statement  that  the  ultimate 
element  into  wdiich  the  cognition,  space,  is  decomposable, 
is  co-existence.  On  the  other  hand,  (2)  the  notion  of  ex- 
ternal, material  co-existence  is  subsequent  in  the  order  of 
thought  to  that  of  space.  Nor  are  the  two  by  any  means 
the  same.  I  may  have  the  idea  of  empty  space.  I  may 
put  one  object  in  it,  or  two  or  three  objects  in  it,  but  the 
idea  of  space  has  preceded  each  and  all  before  they  became 
to  me  external  objects,  or  the  images  of  such  objects. 
Indeed,  (3)  simple  co-existence,  as  of  an  act  of  memory  and 
a  thought,  of  a  thought  and  a  feeling,  does  not  involve  the 
idea  of  space.  The  contrast  of  the  inner  and  the  outer,  of 
the  ego  and  non-ego,  may  or  may  not  go  forward ;  but  the 
first  step  in  such  a  contrast,  the  initial  stroke  of  light  in 
handling  a  local  sensation,  is  the  localizing  idea  of  space. 
How  often,  and  how  long  I  may  have  one,  two,  three  sen- 
sations, and  not  expound  them,  is  simply  the  question.  How 


200  REASON. 

long  do  the  senses  ante-date  in  development  the  other 
intellectual  powers  ?  When  these  come,  they  come  thus, 
not  otherwise.  The  fact  of  co-existence  is  a  mere  blind 
datum  of  sensations,  until  contemj)lated  under  the  idea  of 
space.  The  (4)  actual  co-existence  of  two  things  is  not 
involved  in  space,  but  only  its  possibility.  The  extension 
of  space  as  the  possibility  of  such  a  co-existence  is  the  no- 
tion of  space,  is  in  and  of  the  very  idea.  Actual  co-exist- 
ence alone  rests  on  sensation,  the  possibility  of  it  on  the 
intuition.  Mr.  Spencer  is  not  to  think  and  speak  of  the  co- 
existence of  two  positions  as  if  it  were  identical  with  the 
co-existence  of  things.  The  first  is  in  no  way  a  datum  of 
sensation.  If  he  tries  to  make  it  so,  he  is  thrown  immed- 
iately back  on  to  his  former  j)i*oof,  and  loses  his  present 
foothold. 

We  have  made  no  distinction  between  extension  and 
space.  We  regard  the  first  only  as  a  sj)ecification  under 
the  second.  The  extension  of  particular  objects,  and  the 
duration  of  particular  events,  are  forms  under  which  the 
mind  applies  the  intuitive  ideas  of  space  and  of  time.  A 
knowledge  of  actual  spaces,  a  measurement  of  material 
objects,  are  the  fruits  of  experience ;  but  these  estimates 
proceed  always  under  the  prior  notion  of  space,  which 
makes  them  intelligible. 

Space,  in  its  analytical  contemplation,  furnishes  a  variety 
of  intuitive  conceptions  which  are  the  basis  of  the  demon- 
strative reasonings  of  Geometry  and  Trigonometry.  Such 
a  notion  is  position,  a  line,  a  surface,  perfect  curves,  figures, 
solids.  A  circle,  in  its  accurate  form  as  a  ground  of  demon- 
strative truth,  is  an  intuitive  conception,  as  are  the  proposi- 
tions which  flow  from  the  immutable  relation  of  its  parts, 
and  of  the  lines  which  define,  and  are  defined  by  them.  A 
surface  without  thickness,  a  line  without  breadth,  a  point 
without  dimensions,  are  all  intuitive  conceptions  under  tlie 


CONSCIOUSNESS.  201 

primitive  idea,  and  are  tlie  elements  of  a  purely  intuitive 
science.  The  most  marked  of  those  secondary  conceptions 
is  that  of  position.  It  is  to  be  entirely  distinguished  from 
an  infinitesimal  body ;  as  the  infinite  of  the  metaphysician 
wholly  transcends  the  infinite  of  the  mathematician.  Posi- 
tion is  not  arrived  at  by  the  futile  sub-divisions  of  the 
fancy,  is  not  the  result  of  the  dogma  of  divisibility.  There 
is  here  absolutely  no  length  nor  breadth,  and  the  idea  is 
reached  directly  by  the  grasp  of  the  reason.  The  imagina- 
tion may  falter  in  struggling  by  additions  to  reach  the  in- 
finite, and  by  subtractions  to  arrive  at  pure  position ;  but 
the  reason  easily  and  at  once  accepts  both  notions,  and  rids 
them  of  those  measurable  parts  by  which  the  imagination 
bafiles  itself  in  the  pursuit.  Position  is  absolutely  without 
measurements,  and  hence  without  parts ;  the  infinite  is  ab- 
solutely beyond  measurements,  and  hence  also  without  parts. 
There  is  no  whole,  therefore  no  division  of  that  whole. 

§  6.  The  ideas  of  existence,  number  and  resemblance 
belong  equally  to  physical  and  mental  facts.  Space,  on  the 
the  other  hand,  is  the  peculiar  formative  idea  of  physical 
phenomena  alone  ;  while  the  idea  we  have  now  to  ofter,  that 
of  consciousness,  is  the  exclusive  characteristic  of  mental 
experiences.  There  has  been  no  debate  concerning  this  idea, 
because  it  has  not  been  presented  as  belonging  to  this  de- 
partment of  our  intellectual  furniture.  If,  however,  it  shall 
appear  that  consciousness  exists  as  a  form  rather  than  as  a 
substance  or  quality,  that  it  is  therefore  directly  arrived  at 
by  the  mind,  and  also  that  it  furnishes  the  distinctive  feat- 
ure of  a  class  of  phenomena,  the  transcendent  predicate  of  a 
series  of  judgments,  it  will  be  plain  that  it  belongs  properly 
to  the  class  of  regulative  notions.  Consciousness  is  often 
spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a  faculty,  a  form  of  knowing  ;  yet  a 
little  thouo-ht  at  once  shows  that  it  is  not.  I  see  a  ball.  I 
say  in  farther  enforcement,  I  know  that  I  see  it.     This  Ian- 


202  REASON. 

guage  has  divided  the  first  simple  act  into  two,  an  act  of  per- 
ceiving, and  one  of  knowing  directed  toward  that  of  percep- 
tion. Yet  this  is  merely  a  convenience  of  expression.  The 
one  single  act  of  seeing  the  ball  is  all  that  is  present.  If 
there  were  a  second  act  of  knowing,  this  also  would  require 
sub-division  in  order  to  reach  the  element  of  consciousness 
in  it.  Thus  analysis  must  go  on  indefinitely,  unless  we 
finally  accept  an  act  of  knowing  which  is  simple  and  indi- 
visible. There  is  no  double  faculty,  or  double  movement 
of  one  faculty,  in  thinking,  feeling,  willing.  A  thought  is 
a  thought  only  as  it  is  known ;  a  feeling  is  a  feeling  only 
as  it  is  felt.  They  do  not  first  find  existence,  and  then  an 
added  quality  or  element  of  consciousness ;  but  conscious- 
ness is  the  condition  and  form  of  their  existence.  Con- 
sciousness, then,  is  not,  like  judgment,  a  power;  nor  like 
pain  or  pleasure,  a  quality  of  certain  states  ;  it  is  not  a  feat- 
ure or  a  relation  of  a  sensation,  but  involved  in  the  very 
notion  of  a  sensation.  This  idea,  therefore,  as  neither  a 
faculty  to  be  known  by  its  exercise,  nor  a  quality  of  mental 
states  to  be  learned  by  observation, — indeed  every  act  of 
observation  must  itself  contain  it — must  be  evolved  by  the 
mind  as  an  explanatory  idea,  or  conditional  notion  in  con- 
sidering the  phenomena  to  which  it  is  applicable. 

It  is  not  only  unphenomenal  itself,  it  is  introduced  as  the 
antecedent  condition  of  a  large  class  of  phenomena,  to  wit : 
those  of  mind.  What  space  is  to  material  facts,  conscious- 
ness is  to  intellectual  facts,  the  interpreting  light  under 
which  they  occur.  The  words  we  constantly  apply  to  it, 
recognize  this  relation.  We  say,  "  the  field  of  conscious- 
ness," "  transpiring  in  consciousness,"  "  coming  up  into  the 
light  of  consciousness,"  "  the  flow  of  consciousness," — that 
is  of  thought  and  feeling  in  consciousness.  These  and  like 
expressions  are  shaped  under  an  image  in  which  conscious- 
ness is  presented  as  an  arena  of  mental  movements,  as  is 


CONSCIOUSNESS.  203 

space  of  physical  events.  The  peculiar  nature  of  knowing, 
feeling,  willing,  is  not  understood  till  the  idea  of  conscious- 
ness is  present :  yet  these  facts  remain  in  their  integrity 
possessed  of  all  the  elements  that  analysis  discloses  in  them, 
without  accrediting  any  one  quality  to  consciousness.  Con- 
sciousness thus  shows  itself  to  be  to  the  inner,  invisible 
world,  what  space  is  to  the  outer,  visible  one  ;  the  condition 
of  its  existence,  the  only  canvas  on  which  its  colors  can  ap- 
pear. To  occupy  space  is  to  have  physical  existence,  to 
occupy  consciousness  is  to  have  an  intellectual  existence,  to 
occupy  neither  is  not  to  exist,  is  to  present  no  one  of  the 
known  forms  of  existence.  The  idea  is  seen  to  be  regula- 
tive in  the  large  class  of  propositions  which  arise  under  it. 
I  know ;  I  see  the  book ;  I  feel  the  pain,  are  of  this  sort. 
Each  of  them  is  comprehended  by  virtue  of  the  notion  of 
consciousness,  which  expounds  their  several  predicates. 

This  view  also  finds  support  in  the  difficulties  which  at- 
tend on  the  ordinary  explanations  of  consciousness.  What 
is  it  ?  is  a  question  that  has  greatly  perplexed  philosophy, 
and  has  seldom  received  a  very  definite  answer.  Some 
have  striven  to  conceive  it  as  a  faculty,  yet  this  faculty 
must  be  present  in  the  action  of  every  other  faculty,  and 
that  other  faculty  would  be  absolutely  null  and  void  w^ith- 
out  this.  To  divide  an  act  of  knowing  into  one  of  knowing, 
and  one  of  consciousness,  each  taking  a  distinct  moiety,  is 
impossible.  Hamilton  has  said,  "  Consciousness  is  the  ge- 
nus under  which  our  several  faculties  of  knowino^  are  con- 
tained  as  species."  But  our  faculties  of  knowing,  no  more 
require  it  than  those  of  feeling  and  willing;  and  what 
exactly  is  a  genus  in  distinction  from  the  species  it  con- 
tains ?  Nothing  but  a  word.  Certainly  an  effort  to  make 
definite  this  view,  prepares  the  way  for  regarding  conscious- 
ness as  a  general  idea,  under  which  all  specific  acts  of  mind, 
in  themselves  complete,  find  recognition.     J.  J.   Murphy, 


204  REASON. 

in  his  work  on  Habit  and  Intelligence,  has  united  con- 
sciousness to  feeling,  and  made  it  and  sensation  species 
under  that  generic  term.  The  conclusion  is  on  the  oppo- 
site side  to  that  of  Hamilton,  but  no  better  than  his ;  since 
consciousness  belongs  equally  to  thoughts  and  feelings. 
Others  fio-ure  consciousness  under  the  imao^e  of  an  internal 
light.  This  is  virtually  to  decline  the  inquiry,  "What  is  it  ? 
since  the  illustration  can  reflect  no  explanation  on  this 
point.  Others  speak  of  consciousness  as  that  power  by 
which  we  refer  acts  to  ourselves.  This  is  to  let  the  ejQ 
wander  altogether  from  the  subject,  since  the  explanation 
overlooks  the  facts  to  be  explained.  Consciousness  has  also 
been  divided  into  common  consciousness  and  philosophical 
consciousness,  and  into  consciousness  and  self -consciousness. 
These  are  divisions  which  pertain  to  the  phenomena  in 
consciousness  and  not  to  consciousness  itself. 

It  occasions  confusion  in  some  minds  that  consciousness 
should  be  spoken  of  as  an  intuitive  idea,  when  it  is  ob- 
viously something  more  and  other  than  an  idea.  The  lan- 
guage merely  indicates  the  manner  in  which  the  mind 
arrives  at  the  relation  expressed  hj  consciousness.  In  the 
same  way  we  speak  of  space  as  an  idea,  and  of  a  landscape 
as  a  perception,  and  of  a  general  term  as  a  conception.  A 
man  may  have  an  idea  of  himself,  that  is  be  an  idea  to 
himself ;  yet  he  is  something  more  than  an  idea.  The 
recognition  of  consciousness  as  a  distinct  category  cuts  apart 
physical  and  mental  facts  with  the  deepest  possible  division. 
They  lie  in  two  incommensurable  and  incomparable  realms, 
that  can  never  overlap  each  other. 

§  7.  We  now  pass  to  time,  a  regulative  idea,  like  that  of 
space,  which  has  attracted  much  attention  as  obviously 
open  to  a  super-sensual  reference.  It  is  the  idea  wdiich 
unites  all  events,  whether  physical  or  mental.  The  sensations 
occasioned  by  phenomena  into  which  the  idea  of  time  most 


TIME.  205 

obviously  enters  are  diverse  in  their  relations  from  those 
chiefly  suggestive  of  space :  or  rather,  things  are  viewed 
in  distinct  bearings  in  the  a2)plication  of  the  one  or  the 
other  notion.  In  each  case,  nevertheless,  the  diversity  is 
only  understood  by  an  a  priori  recognition  of  the  controll- 
ing idea  of  the  relation  under  which  it  arises.  Some  objects 
can  be  contemplated  indifferently  in  one  order  of  succession 
or  in  a  reverse  order.  We  may  move  from  A  to  Z,  or  re- 
turn from  Z  to  A.  Others,  transpiring  in  time,  confine  the 
attention  to  one  direction.  We  pass  from  A  to  Z,  but  can- 
not retrace  our  steps.  The  cars  enter  the  field  of  vision 
at  the  left,  and  pass  out  at  the  right.  In  these  facts  there 
is  an  occasion,  though  not  an  explanation,  of  the  notion  of 
time.  The  mind  cannot,  under  the  influence  of  a  mere  se- 
ries of  sensations,  discover  this  relation ;  since  it  is  not  in 
and  of  the  sensations,  but  that  which  expounds  them.  Nor 
can  it  institute  a  comparison  between  the  two  relations  of 
objects  which  shall  issue  in  any  comprehension  of  them, 
without  itself  supplying  the  essential  conditions  of  that 
comparison — the  notions  of  space  and  time.  We  must 
either  hold  that  time  is  an  order  of  sensation,  or  we  must  ad- 
mit it  to  be  that  transcendent  idea  which  expounds  that  or- 
der, and  is  therefore  supplied  by  the  mind. 

Says  Spencer,  "  As  the  ideas  of  space  and  co-existence 
are  inseparable,  so  also  are  the  ideas  of  time  and  sequence. 
It  is  impossible  to  think  of  time,  without  thinking  of  some 
succession  ;  and  it  is  equally  impossible  to  think  of  any  suc- 
cession without  thinking  of  time.  Time,  like  space,  can 
not  be  conceived  except  by  the  establishment  of  a  relation 
between  at  least  two  elements  of  consciousness,  the  differ- 
ence being,  that  while  in  the  case  of  space,  those  two  ele- 
ments are,  or  seem  to  be  present  together,  in  the  case  of 
time  they  are  not  present  together." — Princijyles  of  Psy- 
chology^  page  247. 


206  REASON. 

This  statement^  so  far  as  it  is  admissible  at  all,  is  so  as 
a  statement  of  the  circumstances  under  which  the  idea  of 
time  arises,  and  not  of  the  nature  of  that  idea  itself.  Used 
for  the  latter  purpose,  the  author  legitimately  reaches  the 
conclusion  that  time  is  ''  relativity  of  position  among  the 
states  of  consciousness."  The  process  of  arriving  at  this 
result  is  farther  explained  thus  :  "  Gradually,  as  by  the 
accumulation  of  experiences,  there  are  found  to  be  like  and 
unlike  sounds,  tastes,  smells,  sizes,  forms,  textures  ;  the  re- 
lationship which  we  signify  by  these  words,  like  and  unlike, 
will  be  rnore  and  more  dissociated  from  particular  impres- 
sions ;  and  the  abstract  ideas  of  likeness  and  lonlikeness 
will  come  into  existence.  Manifestly,  then,  the  ideas  of 
likeness  and  unlikeness  are  impossible  until  multitudes  of 
things  have  been  thought  of  as  like  and  unlike.  Similarly 
in  the  case  before  us.  After  various  relations  of  position 
among  the  states  of  consciousness  have  been  contemplated, 
have  been  compared,  have  become  familiar ;  and  after  ex- 
periences of  different  relations  of  position  have  been  so  ac- 
cumulated as  to  dissociate  the  idea  of  the  relation  from  all 
particular  positions  ;  then,  and  not  till  then,  can  there  arise 
the  abstract  notion  of  relatwity  of  'position  among  the 
states  of  consciousness — the  notion  of  time. 

Thus  so  far  is  it  from  being  true  that  time,  as  conceived 
by  us,  is  a  form  of  thought ;  it  turns  out  contrariwise,  not 
only  that  there  can  be  thoughts  while  yet  time  has  not 
been  conceived,  but  that  there  must  be  thoughts,  before  it 
can  become  conceivable  " — Page  252. 

Our  objection  to  the  above  conclusion  is  double.  The 
comparison  itself  cannot  go  on  without  a  regulative  idea, 
that  of  resemblance,  under  which  it  can  be  instituted  ;  and 
that  in  which  it  is  said  to  issue  is  not  the  notion  of  time. 
That  which  is  explained  by  time  is  very  diiferent  from  time 
itself.     If  the  first  w^ere  the  second  we  should  have  no  need 


TIME.  207 

of  an  independent  exjDlanatory  notion,  the  phenomena  would 
be  complete  and  intelligible  in  themselves.  The  sequence 
of  events  provokes  the  notion,  but  is  not  that  notion.  Se- 
quence and  time  do  not  mutually  contain  each  other,  but 
(1)  time  is  tliat  idea  without  which  the  fact  of  sequence  is 
unintelligible.  That  time  is  not  identical  with  succession 
is  seen  in  our  measurement  of  it.  (2)  A  succession  of 
events  may  be  completed  in  a  shorter  or  longer  period,  and 
if  time  to  us  were  their  mere  relation  in  sequence,  we 
should  insist  on  its  identity  in  the  two  cases.  (3)  We  dis- 
tinguish time  from  any  given  sequence,  indeed  from  all  se- 
quences, longer  or  shorter  according  to  the  forces  at  work. 
We  do  not  identify  it  with  that  series  of  events  even  by 
which  we  measure  it.  The  conditions  for  its  exact  estimate 
and  general  apprehension  are  different.  (4)  The  notion  of 
time,  with  no  actual  events  transpiring  in  it,  is  quite  con- 
sonant with  thought.  Moreover,  many  sequences  are  si- 
multaneous. (5)  The  relativity  of  which  one  of  these  is  it 
that  constitutes  time  ?  It  cannot  be  one  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  remainder,  for  no  one  has  such  a  pre-eminence  over 
every  other.  Neither  can  it  be  all,  since  they  are  constantly 
varying  among  themselves.  What  effect  has  it  on  time, 
that  one  drives  faster  than  he  has  been  driving,  that  a  rail- 
road train  has  stopped  at  a  station,  that  the  thoughts  have 
been  quickend  by  danger  ?  The  quality  of  sweetness  may 
exist  in  many  things,  and  have  shades  of  diversity  in  each  ; 
is  this  also  oar  conception  of  time  ? 

(6)  The  prior  notion  of  time,  moreover,  imposes  se- 
quence, when  there  is  no  sequence  in  the  states  of  conscious- 
ness, but  rather  alternation.  The  mind  may  pass  from  A 
to  B  in  contemplation,  and  back  again;  it  may  vibrate 
between  the  two  in  alternate  thought :  yet  it  does  this  as 
certainly  under  the  idea  of  time  as  if  it  had  simply  passed 
on  to  Z.     Motion  in  a  circle  is  felt  to  be  motion  as  much 


208  heason. 

as  movement  in  a  straight  line.  Bare  contemplation  with- 
out conscious  progress  is  felt  to  occupy  time ;  it  is  for  tlie 
measure,  not  for  the  fact  of  time,  that  we  revert  to  external 
events  at  the  expiration  or  change  of  a  single  absorbing 
feeling.  There  is  doubtless  some  succession  in  every  phase 
of  mind,  but  it  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  contemplate  these 
minor  and  obscure  transitions  to  be  aware  that  every  act, 
the  very  act  of  attention,  occupies  time.  We  might  as  well 
endure  an  intense,  absorbing  pain  for  an  hour  as  for  an 
instant,  if  we  were  not  able  to  distinguish  between  the  two 
cases.  That  which  we  urge  is,  that  the  notion  of  time 
imposes  the  sense  of  sequence  where  there  is  no  proper 
sequence  in  tlie  sensations  as  sensations,  and  the  alternate 
consideration  of  A,  B,  like  the  beat  of  a  clock,  marks  dis- 
tinctly the  flow  of  time.  Indeed  all  consciousness  is  made 
sequential,  no  matter  what  the  order  of  its  states,  by  the 
very  notion  of  time  in  which  they  transpire.  We  can  not 
escape  the  inner  succession  of  impressions,  because  we  can- 
not elude  the  interpreting  idea,  that  of  time.  The  position 
of  "  states  of  consciousness  "  can  be  only  that  of  succession, 
whatever  their  character  or  the  number  of  times  they  are 
repeated.  The  inner  law  overrules  the  outward  appear- 
ance, and  imposes  the  notion  of  sequence. 

Suppose,  on  the  other  hand,  with  Sj)encer,  that  we  could 
pass  from  A  to  Z,  without  the  idea  of  time.  ,  In  that  case 
we  should  not  only  be  destitute  of  it,  but  have  made  no 
progress  towards  it.  We  should  simply  have  experienced 
sensations  without  interpretation.  'No  repetition  of  this 
process,  however  frequent,  could  make  it  fruitful  of  a  new 
notion.  The  simple  idea  must  be  present  to  oj^en  the 
inquiry.  Time  must  be  a  sensation,  like  that  of  green  and 
red,  or  its  distinct  abstraction  can  not  follow  from  repeti- 
tion. The  sensation  green  is  given  in  each  particular 
instance,  and  then,  by  distinguishing  attention,  assumes  the 


TIME.  209 

abstract  form.  This  process  is  possible  only  to  sensations, 
—and  even  then  involves  more  than  sensation — not  to  rela- 
tions ;  since  a  relation  is  addressed  to  the  intellect,  and  not 
to  the  sense,  and  can  only  be  understood  in  connection 
with  an  idea  under  which  it  arises  and  is  defined  as  a  rela- 
tion of  place,  time,  dependence.  On  no  supposition  is  the 
closing  statement  of  Spencer  admissible.  "  So  far  is  it 
from  being  true  that  Time,  as  conceived  by  us,  is  a  form  of 
thought,  it  turns  out  contrariwise,  not  only  that  there  can 
be  thoughts  while  yet  time  has  not  been  conceived,  but 
that  there  must  be  thoughts  before  it  can  become  con- 
ceivable." 

As  a  sensation,  time  must  be  experienced  in  each  sensa- 
tion from  which  it  is  to  be  abstracted ;  as  a  relation  also  it 
must  be  discoverable  in  each  series  or  it  can  not  be  general- 
ized from  all ;  and  as  an  idea  disclosing  a  relation  it  must 
come  at  once.  Time  must  be  a  sensation,  or  it  must 
be  a  specific  relation  under  some  general  idea,  or  it  must 
itself  be  a  primary  idea,  the  condition  of  actual,  individual 
connections.  The  first  supposition  is  plainly  false,  while 
the  second  is  as  unacceptable  to  the  empirical  school  as 
the  third,  since  it  also  implies  original,  intuitive  action 
of  the  mind.  Yet  I  see  no  escape  except  in  the  assertion 
that  a  relation  of  no  specific  order  or  kind  can  be  discov- 
ered, and  this  is  not  an  escape,  since  such  a  relation  could 
not  be  generalized  into  one  of  a  specific  order  or  kind,  to 
wit,  that  of  time. 

§  8.  The  seventh  re2:ulative  idea  is  that  of  cause  and 
effect.  This  is  one  of  the  most  undeniable  of  them  all,  and 
is  either  greatly  restricted  in  its  statement,  or  entirely  re- 
jected by  those  who  refuse  to  accept  the  reason  as  a  source 
of  knowledge.  Indeed  an  adequate  presentation  of  the 
notion  as  it  lies  in  the  general  mind,  shows  it  at  once  to  be 
beyond  sensation,  generalization,  or  any  action  that  these 


210  REASON. 

processes  can  verify.  The  convenience  of  expression  has 
led  to  the  extension  of  the  term  cause,  not  merely  to  re- 
mote agents,  but  even  to  the  conditions  of  their  action. 
Any  one  of  all  the  circumstances  necessary  to  an  effect  is 
spoken  of  as  its  cause,  though  no  direct  efficiency  proceeds 
from  it.  In  a  stricter  sense,  the  word  cause  includes  only 
those  antecedents  which  are  active  in  the  effect,  and  in  a 
yet  closer  sense,  the  sense  which  belongs  to  it  in  the 
present  discussion,  the  forces  immediately  operative  in  the 
fact  before  us.  The  cause  is  strictly  contemporaneous  with 
the  effect,  underlies  it,  momentarily  occasions  it.  The 
antecedent  effect  had  its  antecedent  cause,  and  though  this 
cause  may  have  been  identical  with  the  cause  now  operat- 
ing, it  remains  a  cause  by  virtue  of  its  present  activity. 
The  effect  is  the  immediate  evidence  of  the  cause;  and 
though  the  last  is  prior  in  thought  to  the  first,  neither  can 
exist  an  instant  without  the  other.  The  sound  of  the 
steam-whistle  is  remotely  attributable  to  the  distant  loco- 
motive, is  more  immediately  to  be  referred  to  the  move- 
ment of  the  air  and  the  tympanum,  but  finds  its  causes 
exactly  in  the  forces  which  sustain  the  movement,  and  the 
living  powers  which  receive  and  interpret  it.  In  this  sense 
the  cause  is  always  and  necessarily  transcendental,  out  of 
the  range  of  the  senses,  incapable  of  verification  by  any 
other  than  the  very  faculty  which  in  the  first  instance 
yields  the  idea. 

The  statements  of  empirical  philosophy  are  quite  differ- 
ent from  those  now  made.  Says  Bain,  "The  successions 
designated  as  Cause  and  Effect,  are  fixed  in  the  mind  by 
contiguity.  Belief  in  external  reality  is  anticipation  of  a 
given  effect  of  a  given  antecedent ;  and  the  effects  and 
causes  are  our  own  various  sensations  and  movements." 
More  clearly  still  does  Mill  speak  of  the  notion  as  one  of 
simple  antecedence ;  while  Spencer  treats  of  it  under  the 


1 


CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  211 

caption,  "  The  relation  of  sequences."     If  tliese  and  otlier 
kindred  statements  are  correct,  then  there  is  no  veritable 
idea  of  cause  and  effect  in  the  precise,  intuitive  sense,  since 
a  sequence  finds  explanation  under  the  notion  of  time,  and 
requires  for  its  statement  no  other  form  of  thought.     That 
there  is  any  sufficient  knowledge  or  idea  of  the  ground  of 
such  a  sequence  is  simply  denied  by  this  class  of  i^hiloso- 
phers.     There  is  in  this   attitude  an  abandonment  of  the 
idea   of   causation    as  irresolvable   into  experience,  and  a 
substitution  for  it  of  a  certain  application  of  the  notion  of 
time.     The  ground  of  debate,  therefore,  is  narrowed  dow^n 
to  the  correctness  with  which  the  phenomena  under  dis- 
cussion are  stated  by  the  respective  parties.    If  it  be  shown, 
that  simple  sequence  does  not,  in  the  common  mind,  cover 
the  entire  ground  of  causation,  there  is  in  the  empirical 
philosophy  a  surrender  of  one  actual,  universal  idea  as  inex- 
plicable; a  superficial  substitution  for  it  of  the  fragment 
of  another,  ajid  this  for  no  other  reason  than  that  its  own 
theory  can  find  no  place   for  this  fixed  conviction.     It  is 
the  facts  of  the  mind's  action  that  philosophy  inquires  into, 
and  the  above  proof  being  given,  there  will  here  be  left  a 
form  of  action  as  universal  and  persistent,  and  hence  as  ul- 
timate and  authoritative  as  any,  uncovered  by  materialism. 
The  universal  conviction,  if  it  can  be  arrived  at,  is  not 
to  be  pushed  aside,  to  be  left  unexplained,  nor  to  be  re- 
garded as  an  accidental,  invalid  movement  of  mind,  with- 
out a  reason    rendered,  distinguishing   this   from  kindred 
affirmations  of  our  faculties.     We  may  not  impeach  the  ac- 
tion of  the  mind  at  one  point,  without  at  least  separating 
this  point  broadly  and  decisively  from  every  other.     These 
universal    convictions    are    not   to   be   obnoxious,    merely 
because,  as  otherwise  inexplicable,  they  demand  the  intui- 
tive insight  claimed  for  them.    There  is  here  vq'aWj  a  priori 
conviction  brought  to  disprove  a  priori  truths  ;  for   wliat 


212  REASON. 

but  an  a  priori  bias  of  mind,  is  this  antecedent  reluctance 
to  admit  the  possibility  of  regulative  ideas  ? 

What  then  is  the  fact?  Which  statement  best  con- 
forms to  the  universal  conviction,  that  of  fixed  antecedence, 
or  of  present  underlying  power  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt 
on  this  point.  The  case  is  a  plain,  almost  an  admitted  one, 
against  empirical  philosophy.  Language  is  full  of  this 
notion  of  inherent,  sub-phenomenal  connections  between 
events.  The  word  force  distinctly  expresses  this  causal 
link,  and  few  words  are  more  familiar,  or  play  a  more  im- 
portant part  in  speech.  Of  the  same  kind,  are  the  words 
power^  influence^  energy^  strength^  and  more  or  less  markedly 
most  of  the  words  which  express  physical  action.  Pull^ 
picsh,  press,  pry,  lift,  lug,  labor,  the  entire  vocabulary  of 
effort  are  saturated  with  this  causal  notion  of  an  invisible 
efficiency,  which  expends  itself  in  all  forms  of  activity. 
Behold  any  striking  display  of  force,  the  blasting  of  rocks, 
and  every  mind  is  impressed  with  the  power  of  the  invisi- 
ble agent.  To  look  upon  the  lifting  of  detached  masses, 
the  seaming  of  the  solid  bed,  as  a  mere  sequence  of  dis- 
connected events,  is  impossible  to  any  mind,  in  its  sponta- 
neous action.  No  descriptive  language  was  ever  applied  to 
such  events,  that  regarded  them  simply  as  a  sequence.  The 
popular  and  the  universal  conviction  is  unmistakable,  that 
here  is  force,  invisible  power. 

Equally  present  is  the  idea  to  all  science.  Gravitation, 
cohesion,  chemical  affinity,  the  correlation  of  forces,  the 
various  theories  of  physical  facts,  like  Darwin's  theory  of 
gcmmules,  or  Spencer's  of  physiological  units,  involve  the 
notion  of  inherent  power,  working  the  results  under  con- 
sideration. Science  could  not  carry  forward  its  investiga- 
tions witliout  this  recognition  of  force.  To  discover  the 
traces  of  its  presence,  and  the  lines  of  its  action,  is  the  con- 
stant triumph  of  knowledge.    To  confound  fixed  antecedents 


CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  213 

witli  efficient  force  is  impossible  to  successful  inquiry.  Tlie 
shadow  of  an  object  approacliing  us  from  the  light,  would 
thus  be  its  cause ;  the  effervescence  of  lime  and  water,  the 
cause  of  the  heat ;  tlie  dissolving  of  salt  in  the  water,  the 
cause  of  the  cold.  The  first  fact,  in  each  series  of  associ- 
ated effects,  would  be  the  source  of  the  remainder.  ISTo  se- 
quences are  more  fixed  than  those  of  day  and  night,  summer 
and  winter,  yet  there  is  no  direct,  causal  connection  be 
tween  them,  and  no  one  ever  so  conceives  the  dependence. 

Philosophy  likewise  reverts  constantly  to  insensible,  un- 
approachable causes.     A  large  share  of  philosophers  admit 
their  existence  and  the  grounds  of  it ;  and  those  of  them 
who  through  their  denial  of  the  latter  are  content  to  sacrifice 
the  former  do  not,  and  can  not,  use  language,  except  in  a 
few  guarded  passages,  consistent  with  their  own  statements. 
They  must,  with  Bain,  in  each  inadvertent  moment,  speak 
of  "  active  energy,"  of  "  mechanical  powers,"  of  "  rousing 
the  dormant  energy,"   and  to  deny  themselves  these  and 
kindred    expressions,  to   forego  the   ideas   back  of   them, 
would  be  to  take  away  the  opportunity  of  composition,  or 
to  make  language  most  cumbersome,  and  untrue  to  our  con- 
victions.    The  generally  accepted   dogma,  that  the  mind 
can  not  know   anything  beyond  its  own  modifications;  a 
dogma  insisted  on  by  many  of  the  empirical  school,  finds 
its  ultimate  support  in  this  notion  of  cause  and  effect.     The 
existence  of  the  object  perceived  outside  of  the  perceptive 
organ,  independent  of  it  and  removed  from  it — at  least  by 
insensible  distances — has  determined  the  large  majority  of 
philosophers  to  deny  the  possibility  of  direct  perception. 
If,  however,  the  connection  of  cause  and  effect  is  one  of 
antecedence  merely,  then  this  separation  of  the  object  per- 
ceived  from    the   organ   perceiving  it,  should   oppose  no 
obstacle  whatever  to  direct  perception.     A  fixed  sequence 
can  be  established  between  things  remote  and  wholly  un- 


214:  BEASOIf. 

like,  as  easily  as  between  things,  like  and  occupying  com- 
mon gromid.  If,  therefore,  this  connection  of  sequence  is 
tlie  deepest,  nay  the  only  connection  between  things  thought 
to  act  on  each  other,  it  would  seem  to  suffice  for  knowledge 
at  all  distances ;  or  if  not,  to  make  knowledge  impossible. 
How  shall  even  successive  states  of  mind  lie  fruitfully  to- 
gether in  simple  sequence,  if  sequence  after  all  is  a  barren 
connection.  If  it  fails  to  unite  remote,  how  can  it  unite 
proximate  objects  ?     If  one  set  falls  apart,  all  must. 

The  general  point  is  too  plain  for  farther  statement. 
Evidently  the  doctrine  of  simple  antecedence  does  not  ex- 
press the  universal  conviction,  does  not  cover  the  phenom- 
ena under  explanation,  does  not  accept  and  expound  the 
affirmations  of  knowledge  which  every  mind  is  constantly 
making. 

Quite  a  different  explanation  of  cause  and  effect  has 
come  from  another  quarter.     Sir  Wilham  Hamilton  apphes 
to  it  what  he  terms  the  law  of  the  conditioned.     The  no- 
tion of  causality  is  thought  by  him  to  arise  from  the  weak- 
ness of  the  mind,  its  inability  to  conceive  a  beginning.    The 
mind,  he  affirms  is  unable  to  conceive  events  without  a  be- 
ginning, nor  yet  with  a  beginning.      "We  can  conceive 
neitlier  the  absolute  commencement,  nor  the  absolute  ter- 
mination of  anything  that  is  once  thought  to  exist ;  nor 
any  more  the  opposite  alternative  of  infinite  non-commence- 
ment, of   infinite  non-termination."     Herein  is  given  the 
the  principle  of  causality  :  "  When  an  object  is  presented 
phenomenally  as  commencing,  we  cannot  but  suppose  that 
the  complement  of  existence,  which  it  now  contains,  has 
previously  been ;  in  other  words,  that  all  that  we  at  present 
come  to  know  in  it  as  an   effect,  must  previously  have  ex- 
isted in  its  cause."     This  is  a  most  inadequate  explanation 
for  several  reasons.     In  the  first  place,  it  inverts  the  order 
of  dependence  in  our  mental  action.     We  can  not  conceive 


CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  215 

of  anything  as  absolutely  commencing,  because  of  tliis  no- 
tion of  cause  and  effect.  The  existence  of  the  notion  is  the 
ground  of  our  embarrassment,  not  the  embarrassment  the 
occasion  of  the  notion.  What  would  be  simpler,  were  it 
not  for  causality  crowding  us  backward,  than  merely  to 
conceive  any  landscape,  any  personage,  any  event,  with  no 
thought  of  what  has  ]3i'eceded  it  ?  The  present  act  of  the 
imagination  is  not  conditioned  on  the  past,  neither  should 
we  be  compelled  to  evoke  the  present  from  the  past,  any 
more  than  to  carry  it  forward  into  the  future,  were  it  not 
for  causation.  Any  cross-section  of  the  events  of  time 
could  be  as  complete  as  a  single  pebble  on  the  shore. 

Thus,  often  in  dreams,  when  the  imagination  finds  un- 
restrained phenomenal  play,  the  judgment  not  being  suffi- 
ciently active  to  impose  the  check  of  this  purely  sub-pheno- 
menal idea  of  causation,  we  in  a  great  measure  disregard  it, 
and,  with  no  sense  of  jar,  suffer  the  unexplained  presence 
of  unexpected  persons,  and  an  incongruous  order  and  issue 
of  events.  The-  ideas  regulative  of  space  and  time  relations 
are  present,  while  cause  and  effect,  regulative  of  consecutive 
thought,  is  in  whole  or  in  part  overlooked.  A  city  makes 
its  appearance  suddenly,  the  ship  moves  unobstructedly 
across  the  land,  the  facts  and  figures  of  fancy  come  and  go 
freely,  bound  to  no  ordinary  sequence. 

A  second  objection  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  theory 
affords  no  explanation  of  the  alternative  adopted  by  it. 
We  can  neither  conceive,  it  is  said,  the  commencement,  nor 
the  non-commencement  of  anything.  Yery  well,  but  how 
is  this  dilemma  to  be  escaj)ed  by  the  present  notion  of  cau- 
sation. The  conclusion  accepted  under  it  of  "  infinite  non- 
commencement"  remains  as  inconceivable  as  ever,  and,  there- 
fore, as  far  as  conception  is  concerned,  presents  as  many  dif- 
ficulties as  would  the  opposed  alternative  of  an  immediate, 
independent  beginning  of  events.     If  the  mind  is  as  oj^en 


216  REASON. 

to  one  cf  these  conclusions  as  to  the  other,  and  can  properly 
be  satisfied  with  neither,  what  reason  has  it  for  preferring 
one  to  the  other  ?  The  difticulty  is  met  only  when  causa- 
tion is  made  a  positive  notion,  compelling  us  in  the  one  di- 
rection. Accompany  this  acceptance  with  a  denial  of  our 
right  to  direct  the  imagination  in  explanation  to  that  which, 
according  to  our  very  notion  of  it,  is  sub-phenomenal,  and 
we  have  at  once  the  ability  and  the  inability  of  the  mind 
explained.  We  have  a  reason  for  its  convictions,  and  also 
for  their  inconceivable  character. 

Again,  this  theory  is  a  concealed  theory  of  antecedence, 
and  fails  to  cover  the  strict  idea  of  causation.  The  efficient 
cause  is  present  with  the  efEect,  immediately  underlies  it, 
and  sustains  it.  Thus  the  substance,  the  force,  which  con- 
stitutes matter,  each  instant  gives  occasion  to  its  qualities. 
The  power  which  is  in  mind,  is  the  groundwork  and  source 
of  its  thoughts,  feelings  and  volitions.  The  stream  of 
causation  flows  under  the  stream  of  events,  and  moment- 
arily floats  them,  as  the  surface  of  the  ocean  is  supported 
by  its  invisible  depths.  Simply  to  insist  on  an  antecedent 
event  to  every  event,  is  to  throw  up  the  phenomenal  path 
along  which  the  imagination  travels,  but  is  not  a  recogni- 
tion of  the  true  force  and  nature  of  causation.  The  imagi- 
nation, exploring  the  past,  does  indeed  require  that  distinct, 
tangible  foot-stones  should,  in  due  order,  link  its  steps  ;  but 
that  which  impels  the  mind  in  thus  sending  it  to  search  its 
way  backward,  is  a  sense  of  an  unbroken  series  of  causes, 
and  that  which  the  mind  flnds  everywhere  beneath  the  phe- 
nomenal supports  of  the  imagination  is  the  permanent 
power  and  flow  of  forces.  This  theory  of  the  weakness  of 
the  human  mind  signally  fails  to  account  for  so  positive  and 
pervasive  a  notion  as  this  of  cause  and  effect. 

If  we  accept  this  notion  in  its  full,  universal  applica- 
tion, leading  us  to  those  invisible  energies  which  thread  to- 


CA  USE  AND  EFFECT.  217 

getlier  the  phenomena  of  the  nni\rerse;  if  we  do  not  deny 
or  limit  the  facts  presented  to  ns  in  our  own  spontaneous 
beliefs,  in  universal  action  and  universal  language,  it  is  at 
once  evident,  that  this  idea  must  have  an  intuitive  origin. 
Admittedly  it  transcends  all  experience,  is  wholly  unap- 
proachable by  the  senses.     The  presence  of  such  a  notion, 
evinced  by  language,  by  science,  by  philosophy,   by   our 
spontaneous  and  inevitable  interpretation  of  events,  is  un- 
deniable ;  to  discard  it  as  a  purely  fanciful  notion  superin- 
duced on  the  facts,  is  to  deny  and  not  to  explain  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  mind  ;  is  to  construct  our  theories  in  neirlect 
of  facts  too  broad  for  them  ;  is  to  invalidate  an  action  of 
mind,  as  universal,  as  strong  in  the  confidence  and  spontane- 
ous trust  of  the  mind  itself,  as  any  of  its  processes.     This 
is   to  make  our  several  forms  of   activity,   intuitive   and 
rationative,  contradictory  and  self-destructive  ;  is  to  bring 
one  form  of  knowing  from  its  own  field  into  that  of  another 
faculty,  and,  because  it  fails  to  understand  the  diverse  action 
of  a  power  given  on  purpose  to  do  a  work  different  from  its 
own,  to  expel,  as  fictitious  and  fanciful,  conclusions  wrought 
out  by  a  native  force  of  mind.     Daily  life  pursues  its  hourly 
labors ;  natural  science  accomplishes  its  great  achievements, 
following   the  clue   of   causation;    and   yet   a  speculation 
termed  philosophy  steps  in  to  declare  the  light  under  which 
these  processes  proceed,  false  and  deceptive.    It  seems  to  be 
light,  and  does  marvelously  well  the  work  of  light,  and  all 
men  insist  on  using  it  as  light ;  yet  evidently  it  is  not  the 
waxen  taper  we  are  after.     This,  then,  can  not  be  our  pre- 
determined light,  and  as  there  is  no  other,  it  follows  plainly 
that  this  is  not  light,  but  darkness  rather.     Correct  ideas 
must  come  from  experience,  and  be  capable  of  its  verifica- 
tion ;  this  is  not  so  reached,  and  cannot  be  so  explained ; 
therefore  it  is  no  valid  notion.     In  all  this  there  is  a  fla- 
grant begging  of  the  question.     We  thus  put  the  grounds 


218  REASON. 

and  tests  of  validity  in  the  faculties  that  directly  concern 
experience,  and  then  deny  validity  to  ideas  that  must  con- 
fessedly, if  they  exist  at  all,  transcend  experience  and  the 
judgments  which  unfold  it. 

The  notion  of  causation  is  well  fitted  to  be  a  test  of  the 
two  schools  of  philosophy,  because  of  its  plainly  transcen- 
dental character,  and  because  knowledge  can  not  be  gained 
without  it.  Deny  causation  and  we  deny  reasons  of  all 
sorts.  Mere  continuity  of  impressions  in  the  mind  can  not 
be  the  ground  of  any  expectation,  unless  this  succession 
tends  to  repeat  itself,  that  is  unless  there  is  in  it  some  causal 
energy.  All  thoughts  equally  with  all  things  must  fall 
apart,  if  there  is  no  coherence  between  them ;  apparent 
order  would  be  no  more  significant  than  apparent  disorder, 
as  both  would  be  accidental. 

A  cause  is  a  transcendental,  co-existent,  co-extensive 
force,  underlying  its  effect.  The  effect  is  its  only  proof, 
its  only  measure,  its  only  expression.  The  cause  is  neither 
less  nor  more  than  the  effect ;  no  portion  of  a  cause  can 
exist  witliout  an  effect ;  no  portion  of  an  effect  can  exist 
without  a  cause?  While  the  word  in  its  most  explicit  use 
is  equivalent  to  the  noumenon  underlying  the  phenomenon, 
and  is  the  source  of  the  conviction  of  real  being,  the  nou- 
mena  and  phenomena,  at  any  moment  present,  imply  pre- 
vious facts,  facts  from  wdiich  they  have  sprung.  This 
second  application  of  the  notion  is  of  quite  as  much  interest 
as  the  first,  since  events  and  our  control  of  events  turn  upon 
it.  Valid  being  is  the  statical  force  of  the  idea,  and  evo- 
lution its  dynamical  force. 

Every  section  of  a  river  is  referred  to  the  one  next 
above  it.  Lano^uas^e  suits  itself  to  the  convenience  of  use 
as  certainly  as  to  the  facts  expressed.  In  speaking  of  a 
river,  we  divide  it,  though  it  is  in  itself  continuous,  into 
portions  easily  designated  by  changes  in  its  banks,  or  by 


CAU8E  AND  EFFECT.  219 

features  whicli  interest  us  in  the  stream  itself.  Thus  we 
refer  to  the  bend,  and  the  stretch  above  the  bend  ;  or  the 
rapids  and  the  level  below  the  rapids.  In  like  manner  in 
the  coherent  flow  of  events,  we  select  the  causes  which  in- 
terest us,  and  we  name  them  by  the  effects  through  which 
they  are  expressed.  Thus  the  death  of  a  man  is  said  to  be 
due  to  the  premature  explosion  of  a  charge,  and  this  to  the 
hasty  firing  of  the  fuse,  and  this  to  a  reckless  temper. 
Thought  lays  hold  of  those  causes  and  conditions  which  are 
of  moment  in  reference  to  the  control  of  events.  The 
mind  is,  therefore,  even  more  likely  to  be  attracted  by  sec- 
ondary and  variable  conditions  than  by  the  fixed  lines  of 
forces,  since  it  is  through  these  conditions  chiefly  that  it 
modifies  events.  An  engine  on  a  railroad  fires  the  barns 
along  its  track,  it  is  complained  of  as  being  constructed 
without  a  sufficient  defense  against  scattering  sparks.  The 
defect  is  said  to  be  the  cause  of  the  conflagrations. 

Causes  are  divided  into  efficient  causes,  conditional 
causes  and  final  causes.  Strictly  efficient  causes  are  the 
forces  which,  interesting  each  other  in  the  effect,  occasion 
it ;  or  these  forces  in  some  previous  form.  Thus  the  fiying 
of  the  rocks  is  due  to  the  expansive  force  of  the  gases  im- 
prisoned in  the  charge.  The  gunpowder  is  an  efficient 
cause.  The  food  which  a  workingman  has  eaten,  and  the 
weight  and  temper  of  his  axe,  are  efficient  causes  in  the 
felling  of  a  tree.  Evidently  many  lines  of  force  may  unite 
in  an  effect.  Conditional  causes  are  those  things,  actions, 
relations,  which,  w^ithout  constituting  a  part  of  the  efficient 
forces,  determine  the  presence  of  these  forces  in  the  effect  in 
an  efficient  form.  Conditional  causes  are  of  quite  as  much 
practical  interest  as  efficient  causes,  and  may  not  be  easily 
distinguishable  from  them.  Drilling  the  hole,  charging  it 
and  firing  the  fuse  are  conditional  causes  of  blasting  the  rock. 

Final  causes  are  not  causes.     AVe  mean  by  a  final  cause 


220  REASON. 

the  motive  wliich  j)rompts  an  action.     Thus  the  final  cause 
of  removing  the  rocks  is  the  construction  of  a  raih'oad. 

The  doctrine  of  intuitive  ideas  is  often  damaged  by  its 
advocates.  It  is  asserted  that  consciousness  testifies  to 
much  not  referable  to  this  source.  The  direct  matter  of 
consciousnesss,  sensations,  thoughts,  feelings,  volitions,  are 
undeniable.  There  is  no  ground  for  dispute  when  any 
fact  is  a  product  of  consciousness,  that  is,  belongs  to  men- 
tal states.  It  is  quite  a  different  question.  What  is  involved 
in  the  data  of  consciousness  ?  The  validity  of  our  judg- 
ments, the  ideas  under  which  they  proceed  are  to  be  arrived 
at  by  analysis,  by  reasoning,  and  are  not  directly  vouched 
for  by  consciousness. 

It  is  sometimes  said  we  are  conscious  of  force,  and 
therefore  of  a  cause  in  putting  forth  voluntary  effort.  The 
true  statement  would  rather  seem  to  be,  we  are  conscious 
of  volition,  and  of  the  subsequent  sensations  which  accom- 
23any  action,  but  not  at  all  of  the  hidden  link  of  power 
which  unites  them.  Indeed,  it  is  not  always  possible  for 
us  to  tell  whether  the  intended  muscular  result  will  follow 
the  volition.  Some  paralysis  may  have  intervened,  arrest- 
ing the  flow  of  energy,  and  the  interior  connection  lies  so 
wholly  beyond  consciousness,  that  we  can  only  determine 
the  presence  or  absence  of  suitable  muscular  conditions  by 
a  tentative  effort  at  movement.  If  we  were  conscious  of 
force,  force  itself  would  be  phenomenal,  and  lose  its  sub- 
phenomenal  character.  It  would  cease  to  be  a  causal  idea 
and  would  become  a  sensible  fact  or  effect. 

Tlie  simplest  statement  of  causation  is.  Every  effect 
must  have  a  cause.  In  this  is  involved  the  exj)ectation  of 
the  perpetuity  of  nature,  since  every  change  in  the  effect, 
as  itself  an  effect,  would  demand  a  new,  specific  cause. 
With  no  apparent  change  in  causes,  we  anticipate  previous 
results,  since  these  must  follow  from  the  unchanged  forms 


SPONTANEITY.        i     /^ ,  h     221^^ 

and  conditions   of  action.     A  prolonged   duration- ^of  the^        v''  ^ 
present  physical  system  is  expected  by  us,  unless  ra^see, /'.^ 
or  think  we  see,  reasons  for  change  in  the  government  of         ^ 
God,  or  grounds  of  cliange  in  the  system  itself — an  intra-/  ^       / 
duction  at  some  point  of  new  forces.  ,      A 

§  9.  Causation  is  the  law  of  connection  between  phys- 
ical facts ;  spontaneity,  the  idea  we  have  next  to  offer,  is 
the  ground  of  connection  between  purely  mental  facts. 
These  two  sets  of  facts  are  as  distinct  in  their  dependencies 
as  in  the  fields  in  which  they  occur.  Confusion  may  easily 
arise  from  blending  jDhysical  and  mental  phenomena  in  the 
nervous  system  which  lies  as  a  medium  of  interaction  be- 
tween them.  All  physical  facts  and  facts  immediately 
dependent  on  them  come  under  the  law  of  causation. 
Causation  involves  the  presence  of  forces,  definite  in  quality 
and  quantity,  which,  in  transition  from  form  to  form,  give 
rise  to  events.  These  forces  have  always  some  mode  of 
existence  which  exactly  expresses  them.  A  power  of  mind 
can  not  so  be  conceived.  It  is  not  a  realized  patent  or 
latent  force  of  a  given  order,  waiting  on  a  proper  occasion 
to  pass  through  another  form  termed  thought.  The  law 
of  thought,  that  of  truth,  can  not  be  maintained  on  such  a 
supposition.  Truth  would  become  a  simple  effect,  and 
lose  its  very  nature.  The  mind  must,  as  a  power,  seek, 
discern,  and  embrace  the  truth,  otherwise  it  is  not  truth. 
This  search  implies  spontaneity  on  the  part  of  the  mind, 
a  self-guided  power  that  moves  toward  its  own  ends.  The 
laws  of  thought,  of  feeling,  of  volition  do  not  abide  as 
forces  in  this  power,  but  are  the  product  of  the  rational 
insight  involved  in  the  power  itself.  Language  constantly 
regards  this  distinction,  but  not  with  tlie  firmness  it  might. 
Over  against  forces  should  stand  powers ;  against  effects, 
actions ;  against  causes,  incentives  and  motives ;  against 
instruments,  agents. 


222  REASON. 

"While  spontaneity  is  tlie  cardinal  fact  of  mind,  so  much 
so  as  to  be  essential  to  any  apprehension  of  mind  as  mind, 
it  has  more  frequently  been  discussed  as  liberty.  Proof  of 
the  actual  possession  of  liberty  by  man  as  a  voluntary 
agent,  and  a  precise  statement  of  what  is  involved  there- 
in, will  be  presented  later.  Liberty  is  to  be  distinguished 
on  the  one  side  from  those  necessary  connections  which 
are  causal  in  character,  and  on  the  other  from  chance,  the 
denial  of  all  dependence  on  antecedents.  Indeed,  strictly 
construed,  there  can  be  no  chance  events.  The  positive 
notions  of  causation  and.  liberty,  which  cover  the  entire 
phenomenal  field,  do  not  permit  them.  It  is  only  under  a 
qualified  form,  as  events  with  unknown  or  incalculable 
causes,  that  chance  ever  appears  in  the  field  of  facts. 
Liberty  allows  the  influence  of  motives,  but  not  their 
measured,  definite,  irresistible  influence.  We  admit  and 
deny  in  the  same  instant  the  application  of  the  word  in- 
fluence, admit  the  word  in  its  substance,  deny  it  in  the 
form  which  its  connection  with  causal  events  has  given  it. 
Herein  is  the  peculiar  and  primitive  character  of  the  con- 
cej^tion,  that  of  a  connection  which  is  not  necessary,  of 
persuasion  which  is  not  imperative  in  either  branch  of  the 
alternative,  of  influence  which  does  not  push  with  a  fixed, 
determinative  force  towards  a  given  volition.  The  will 
is  neither  capricious,  nor  mathematically  calculable  in  its 
action.  It  is  free,  and  submits  freely,  so  far  as  it  submits 
to  the  motives  before  it.  There  is  no  £:reat  difficultv  in 
this  conception  so  long  as  we  let  it  alone.  It  is  when  we 
begin  to  compare  it  with  other  conceptions,  that  its  pecu- 
liarity appears,  and  this  we  are  liable  to  mistake  for  intrin- 
sic absurdity,  falsity. 

This  idea  of  liberty — the  motives  lying  before  the  will, 
not  back  of  it ;  persuading,  not  impelling  it — is  primitive, 
and   brought  by  tlie   mind  to   tlie   explanation  of  a  class 


SPONTANEITY.  223 

of  facts  that  require  it,  those  of  choice  and  responsibility. 
The  sense  of  obligation,  with  the  subsequent  feelings  of 
virtue  and  guilt,  of  approval  and  condemnation  ;  the  facts 
of  government,  of  reward  and  punishment,  the  mind  can 
not  understand  or  fully  accept  without  the  interpretation 
of  the  idea  of  liberty ;  without  making  the  connection  be- 
tween choice  and  motives,  between  personal  action  and  the 
circumstances  under  wdiich  it  takes  place,  one  of  freedom. 
Hence  springs  the  notion  of  liberty,  and  the  obstinate  de- 
fense and  maintenance  of  it  by  so  many,  in  spite  of  faulty 
definitions,  in  spite  of  this  inability  to  render  any  explana- 
tion of  it  satisfactory  to  the  purely  scientific  mind. 

We  are  not  conscious  of  liberty.  If  we  were,  there 
would  be  no  room  for  discussion.  "We  no  more  know  the 
exact  nature  of  the  connection  between  the  motives  and 
the  will  from  experience  simply,  than  we  do  the  connection 
between  the  volition  and  subsequent  muscular  action.  In 
view  of  the  accepted  fact  of  accountability,  and  the  ab- 
sence of  all  sensible  constraint  in  motives,  the  mind  predi- 
cates of  the  connection  liberty— itself  supplying  the  idea, 
and  applying  it  to  the  phenomena ;  exactly  as  to  another 
class  of  facts,  it,  in  the  same  independent  way,  brings  the 
idea  of  causal  interdependence.  In  each  case  the  mind  pro- 
ceeds to  meet  and  expound  the  facts  with  its  own  independ- 
ent notion,  seen  by  itself  to  be  applicable  to  the  conditions 
of  the  problem.  The  movement  is  exactly  that  which  takes 
place  in  the  explanation  of  other  experiences  under  the  no- 
tion of  space  ;  and  of  still  others  under  that  of  time.  The 
supersensual  nature  of  the  idea  of  liberty  must  be  admitted 
by  all,  certainly  not  less  by  those  who  deny  its  intelligibil- 
ity, and  ridicule  the  assertion  of  its  existence,  tlian  by  those 
who  accept  both.  It  seems  quite  evident,  that  if  freedom 
does  exist,  it  is  the  regulative  idea  presiding  over  the  facts 
of  choice  ;  the  form  under  which  the  connection  of  the 


22i  REASON. 

will  with  the  causal  forces  about  it  is  to  be  conceived. 
Indeed,  philosophers  of  the  empirical  school  usually  deny 
the  existence  and  notion  of  liberty,  at  least  as  insisted  on 
by  Intuitive  Philosophy.  IS'o  one  can  reach,  or  has  striven 
to  reach,  the  notion  of  -  liberty  through  outside  experience. 
It  has,  when  accepted,  been  referred  directly  to  conscious- 
ness, or  to  an  intuitive  power. 

§  10.  A  ninth  intuitive  idea  is  that  of  truth.  Truth  is 
the  law  of  thought.  It  is  the  agreement  of  the  judgments 
of  the  mind  with  the  facts  and  principles  to  which  they 
pertain.  It  is  thus  the  goal  of  all  intellectual  inquiry. 
Truth  may  seem  to  be  a  special  application  of  the  notion  of 
resemblance.  More  careful  thouo^ht  will  distino^uish  the 
two.  Between  the  intellectual  statement  and  that  to  which 
it  pertains  there  is  no  resemblance,  as  between  one  color  and 
another,  one  form  and  another,  one  feeling  and  another  ;  nor 
is  the  correspondence  of  truth  that  of  identity,  the  van- 
quishing point  of  resemblance.  The  two  terms,  the  one  an 
immediate  product  of  the  mind,  the  other  a  fact  of  some 
order  in  the  Universe  about  us,  are  in  every  way  distinct 
from  each  other  in  the  formal  elements  of  being ;  they  coa- 
lesce only  in  that  single  relation  w^hich  we  express  by  the 
word  truth.  The  powder  to  discern  the  relation  is  a  pe- 
culiar power  of  mind  ;  and  that  it  is  an  intuitive  power  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  at  least  one  of  the  two  terms  brouo^ht 
together  is  an  intellectual  product.  The  senses  therefore 
can  not  pronounce  on  truth,  while  the  judgment  simply 
affirms  that  true  which  is  seen  to  be  so. 

§  11.  We  have  now  reached  an  idea,  whose  nature  and 
origin  have  been  the  occasion  of  much  diversity  of  opinion. 
The  conclusion  we  arrive  at  as  to  the  nature  of  right,  will 
profoundly  affect  our  intellectual  and  practical  life.  The 
phenomena  that  call  forth  the  discussion,  though  often 
narrowed  by  the  theory  adopted  for  their  explanation,  are, 


RIGHT.  225 

in  a  general  way,  accepted   and  agreed  upon.      They  are 
these.     Certain  forms  of  action  are  known  by  us  as  right, 
others  as  wrong;    a  sense    of    obligation  accompanies   the 
former  when  urged  upon  us,   and  of  satisfaction  and  ap- 
proval when  performed  by  us.     Tlie  latter,  on  the  other 
hand,  wdien   distinctly  contemplated  as  wrong,  deter   the 
mind  from  acceptance  by  a  minatory  sense  of   duty,  and 
punish  the  commission  by  a  clear  feeling  of  guilt.     Of  the 
presence  and  operation  of  these  facts,  history  and  language 
are  full.     JSTeither  the  speech  nor  the  actions,  the  laws  nor 
the  religion  of  men,  are  intelligible  without  them.     The 
testimony  of  individual  experience  is  repeated  in  that  of 
communities  and  nations.     From  the  beginning  men  have 
been  dealing  with  virtuous  and  vicious  acts,  with  right  and 
wrong  courses  of  conduct,  with  innocence  and  guilt,  respon- 
sibility and  irresponsibility,  honor  and  shame,  j)raise  and 
censure,   rewards  and   punishments.     These   ethical   ideas 
e:row  in  the  race  as  it  advances.     Our  legislation,  our  social 
institutions,  our  daily  actions,  our  religious  beliefs  are  full 
of  them  ;  and  new  labors  of  reform  are  constantly  putting 
them  into  more  pithy  and  pungent  shape.     Ethical  science 
commands  a  large  share  of  attention,  and  takes  under  its 
survey  more  and  more  broadly  the  actions  of  men.     The 
shades  of  feeling  involved  vary  from  remorse  and  despair 
to  the  slightest  uneasiness,  from  the  triumphant  self-justifi- 
cation of  the  martyr  to  a  transient  thrill  of  delight.     Sin, 
wickedness,  guilt,  duty,  right,  righteousness,  integrity,  jus- 
tice, holiness,  are  a  few  of  the  weighty  words  under  which 
these  grave  thoughts  take  their  way. 

The  facts  involved  being  thus  comparatively  bold  and 
salient,  in  a  measure  admitted  by  all,  what  is  that  theory  of 
intellectual  powers  which  best  covers  and  expounds  them  ? 
The  perception  of  right  and  the  feeling  of  obligation  are 
inseparable;  they  are  the  intellectual  and  emotional  sides 


226  REASON. 

of  one  mental  state.  An  obligation  can  not  be  felt  without 
some  direction  or  line  of  action  to  which  it  attaches.  An 
obligation  must  be  of  a  specific,  definite  character.  An 
obligation  without  attachment  to  any  act,  is  unintelligible, 
is  no  obligation.  The  quality  right,  seen  in  an  act,  is  that 
which  at  once  calls  forth  the  feeling  of  duty,  and  directs  it 
into  a  particular  channel,  l^o  more  can  the  intuition  be 
separated  from  the  feeling  than  the  feeling  from  the  intui- 
tion. Indeed,  it  is  chiefly  through  the  strong  sentiment 
that  accompanies  it,  that  we  discover  the  distinct  character 
of  the  intuitive  act.  Language  abundantly  recognizes  this 
double  bearing  of  ethical  insight.  We  have  the  word  right 
as  expressive  of  the  intellectual  recognition  of  moral  law ; 
and  the  words  ought,  obligation,  duty,  presenting  the  emo- 
tional element. 

The  theories  which  do  not  accept  the  original,  simple, 
inseparable  character  of  the  idea  right,  explain  the  intel- 
lectual element  by  the  generalized  notion  of  utility.  This 
is  done  with  very  different  degrees  of  success  ])y  earlier 
and  later  w^riters  ;  but  the  empirical  school  agree  in  making 
utility  the  intellectual  ground  of  ethics.  We  have  appe- 
tites, sensibilities,  tastes,  affections  to  be  gratified.  Any 
thing  or  action  which  affords  pleasure  to  any  one  of  these 
is  useful.  This  common  power,  which  belongs  to  so  many 
objects  and  relations,  of  furnishing  some  form  of  enjoy- 
ment, or  some  condition  of  it,  is  abstracted  under  the  word 
utility.  The  inquiry  which  guides  the  conscience,  it  is 
said,  is  this  inquiry  into  pleasure,  into  immediate  and 
future  enjoyment ;  and  that,  if  fairly  and  thoroughly  pushed 
and  made  to  cover  all  gratifications  high  and  low,  it  is  an 
exliaustive  statement  of  all  that  takes  place  in  ethical  re- 
search. While  tliis  is  an  inadequate  theory  of  the  intellec- 
tual grounds  of  duty,  it  is  difficult  to  disprove  it.  What  is 
affirmed  by  it  does  take  place,  and  is  a  most  apparent  and  a 


RIGHT.  227 

most  necessary  part  of  the  process  by  which  we  arrive  at  a 
practical  conchision  as  to  a  line  of  action,  whether  it  be 
right  or  wrong.  Tlie  usefulness  of  an  action,  in  a  broad 
and  deep  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  correct  criterion  of  its 
moral  character ;  it  becomes,  therefore,  very  difficult  to 
show,  that  it  does  not  cover  the  entire  ethical  element. 

The  quality  right,  like  the  quality  beauty,  is  seen  in  an 
intellection,  that  is,  in  an  act  whose  relations  and  bearings 
backward  and  forward  have  been  inquired  into  and  settled. 
What  are  the  results  which  flow  from  it?  What  are  the 
feelings  it  expresses?  How  will  it  work  forward  in  the 
world  of  facts  ?  How  does  it  work  backward  on  the  emo- 
tions ?  These  are  the  inquiries  which  disclose  to  us  the  in- 
tellectual bearings  of  the  action,  and  prepare  us  to  pro- 
nounce w^isely  on  its  character;  they  are  also  those  which 
determine  its  utility.  So  far  the  ground  is  common  to  the 
two  theories,  sensualistic  and  intuitive.  At  this  point  they 
diverge.  Says  the  one  philosopher,  these  facts  exhaust  the 
grounds  of  intellectual  action ;  says  the  other,  they  prepare 
the  conditions  of  a  final,  intuitive  act  overlooked  by  you, 
pronouncing  the  action  not  useful  or  otherwise,  but  right  or 
wrong.  The  last  words  are  not,  and  can  not  be  measured  by 
the  first.  In  the  intellection  which  we  have  reached  in  part 
at  least  as  you  have  reached  it,  we  discover  a  farther 
transcendent  relation  to  ourselves,  which  we  term  right, 
and  from  which  springs  all  our  ethical  action.  In  this  we 
affirm  we  have  the  testimony  of  language  with  us,  which  by 
no  means  confounds,  or  allows  us  to  confound,  these  two 
notions  of  the  right  and  the  useful.  Nay,  it  separates  them 
in  clean  and  clear  division  from  each  other,  reserving  an 
emphasis  for  the  one  which  it  never  thinks  of  bestowing 
on  the  other. 

It  is,  however,  when  the  emotional  element  is  consid- 
ered, that  the  utilitarian  theory  is  seen  to  be  most  obviously 


228  REASON. 


inadmissible.  It  does  not  satisfactorily  meet  the  question, 
Whence  arises  the  sense  of  obligation  which  is  the  salient 
feature  of  the  right  ?  It  strives  to  make  answer  by  affirm- 
ing that  the  feeling  of  duty  is  conventionally  imposed  by 
the  community  in  satisfaction  of  its  own  sentiments,  and  in 
view  of  what  is  advantageous  to  itself.  The  obligation  of 
ethical  action  is  thus  referred  to  education,  to  social  and 
ci'vdl  institutions,  in  their  own  behalf  laying  the  j)ressure  of 
duty  on  their  subjects.  Says  Bain,  "  Authority  or  jDunish- 
ment  is  the  commencement  of  the  state  of  mind  recognized 
under  the  various  names — Conscience,  the  Moral  Sense,  the 
Sentiment  of  Obligation.  The  major  part  of  every  commu- 
nity adopt  certain  rules  of  conduct  necessary  for  the  com- 
mon preservation,  or  ministering  to  the  common  well-being. 
....  Every  one,  not  of  himself  disposed  to  follow  the 
rules  prescribed  by  the  community,  is  subjected  to  some  in- 
fliction of  pain  to  supply  the  absence  of  other  motives: 
the  infliction  increasing  in  severity  until  obedience  is  at- 
tained. It  is  the  familiarity  with  this  regime  of  compul- 
sion, and  of  suffering,  constantly  increasing  until  resistance 
is  overborne,  that  plants  in  the  infant  and  youthful  mind 
the  first  germ  of  the  sense  of  obligation." — The  Emotions 
and  the  Will,  p.  481.  His  definition  of  Conscience  is,  "An 
ideal  resemblance  of  public  authority,  growing  up  in  the 
individual  mind,  and  working  to  the  same  end." 

The  community  grounds  the  law  of  action  partly  on 
utility,  and  partly  on  the  transient  sentiments  which  pos- 
sess it,  and  so,  with  a  variety  of  sanctions,  trains  the  child  to 
obedience.  "  A  certain  dread  and  awful  impression  is  thus 
connected  with  forbidden  actions,  which  is  the  conscience 
in  its  earliest  germ  or  manifestation." 

This  theory  derives  a  force  which  does  not  belong  to  it 
from  the  very  fact  that  social  law,  appealing,  as  it  often 
does,  to  our  moral  nature,  acquires  thereby  a  prescriptive 


RIGHT.  229 

power  which  would  not  otherwise  be  attainable.  If  there 
were  no  foundation  for  custom  and  law  in  onr  moral  con- 
stitution, tlie  results  of  social  instruction  and  discipline 
would  be  much  less  than  they  now  are.  With  this  grave 
advantage  afforded  bj  the  frequent  coincidence  of  our 
moral  constitution  and  social  customs,  the  theory  still  plainly 
fails  to  cover  the  facts.  It  should  be  observed,  moreover, 
that  man's  habitual  disobedience  to  moral  law  weakens  its 
authority,  obscures  its  phenomena,  and  thus  greatly  aids  the 
effort  to  confound  it  with  conventional  nile.  Not w^ith stand- 
ing these  causes  of  obscuration,  we  believe  a  better  theory 
still  remains  visible  in  the  facts. 

(1)  We  have  repeated  examples  of  what  general  agree- 
ment and  enforcement  can  accomplish,  and  the  results  are 
of  another  kind  from  those  arising  under  true  moral  force. 
Take  again,  from  another  point  of  view,  the  illustration 
afforded   by  fashion.     A   kind   of   censure   to   which  the 
masses  of  men  are  exceedingly  sensitive,  is  constantly  and 
unsparingly  inflicted  on  those  who  disregard  fashion.     Yet 
the  most  infatuated  devotee  of  the  fickle  goddess  would 
hardly  venture  to  regard  scrupulous  obedience  as  a  virtue. 
Such  an  one  is  quite  content  if  she  escapes  positive  censure 
in  her  fashionable  follies.     How  very  different,   also,  the 
feeling  arising  from  a  violated  fashion,  from  wearing  a  pro- 
scribed coat  or  hat,  from  that  which  affects  the  sensitive 
soul  under  the  sense  of  wrong  action.     Allow  each  violator 
to  be  equally  appreciative  of  the  law  wdiose  precepts  have 
been  infringed,  and  we  have,  in  the  one  case,  mortification, 
and  in  the  other  guilt.     The  most  scrupulous  observance  of 
the  details  of  fashion,  of  fashion  enforced  by  two  thirds  of 
the  community,  can  not,  does  not,  bestow  the  sense  of  virtue ; 
nor  disobedience  the  feelins:  of  vice. 

Take  again  the  standard  of  honor  enforced  among  cer- 
tain classes,  as  among  soldiers,  or  gamblers,  or  on  the  Stock 


230  REASON. 

Exchange.  The  penalties  here  inflicted  on  disobedience, 
are' as  unsparing  as  the  parties  can  make  them.  Yet  such  a 
custom  as  dueling  is  broken  down  bj  a  purely  moral  senti- 
ment, based  on  the  individual  conscience,  struggling  with 
and  at  length  conquering  the  general  consent  of  the  com- 
nmnity.  It  may  be  answered :  Yes,  but  the  sense  of  utility 
is  with  those  who  favor  reform.  Granted,  but  it  is  not, 
under  the  theory  as  presented  in  its  present  form,  the  notion 
of  utility  that  imposes  obligation,  but  the  concurrent,  edu- 
cational force  of  the  community,  and  this  is  fully  pledged 
to  a  custom  wdiich  nevertheless  calls  forth  on  the  part  of  a 
few  a  staunch  condemnation,  finding  at  length  such  response 
in  the  consciences  of  all  as  to  lead  to  the  abandonment  of 
the  censured  act.  ]N'ow,  if  the  question  were  one  merely  ot 
wisdom,  there  would  be  no  mystery  in  the  formation  of  a 
new  opinion,  and  hence  in  a  change  of  action.  The  diffi- 
culty under  the  theory  lies  in  explaining  how  moral  obliga- 
tion, which  rests  on  an  educational  basis,  which  arises  from 
the  enforced  sentiment  of  the  many,  which  is  the  volume 
of  sound  made  by  a  multitude  of  voices,  can  be  brought  to 
bear  against  an  overwdielming  majority,  to  the  breaking 
down  of  those  very  beliefs  whence  it  springs.  Hov/  can 
one,  two,  three,  outshout  the  crowd  ?  How^  can  there  arise 
a  counter-sense  of  duty,  when  this  sense  is  simply  the 
concurrent  opinions  of  men,  sustaining  as  sacred  the  cen- 
sured institution.  Duty  would  thus  be  like  respectability, 
like  popularity.  They  do  go,  and  nmst  go  with  the  domi- 
nant party,  and  can  not  be  used  as  an  incipient  force  against 
themselves. 

(2)  The  thief,  the  gambler,  the  speculator,  rest  their 
laws  on  an  educated  sense  of  honor  peculiar  to  themselves, 
and  while  they  do  secure  obedience,  sometimes  more  self- 
sacrificing  and  implicit  than  much  of  that  wdiich  arises 
under  moral  law,  it  is  notoriously  with  little  or  no  reference 


mOHT.  231 

to  siicli  a  law.  They  do  not  mistake  their  precepts  for 
morality ;  they  are  scrupulous,  not  conscientious,  in  their 
obedience  to  them.  Occasionally  to  throw  a  slight  coloring 
of  morality  over  their  actions,  is  the  most  they  aim  at.  In 
a  community  in  which  slavery  for  many  generations  has 
been  the  law  of  the  land,  we  find,  nevertheless,  an  inde- 
pendent moral  element  getting  a  foothold.  Conscience  is 
appealed  to,  and  a  vigorous  moral  warfare  springs  up  in  the 
teeth  of  uniform  custom.  Nor  do  those  who  justify  slavery 
do  it  on  the  ground  of  uniform  practice,  except  so  far  as 
this  is  regarded  as  an  expression  of  opinion  on  the  part  of 
those  who  have  thus  held  their  fellows  in  bondage.  Other 
grounds  than  the  mere  fact  of  custom  are  sought,  grounds 
which,  so  far  as  they  exist,  have  a  true  justificatory  element 
in  them  :  the  good  condition  of  the  slave ;  his  inferiority  ; 
the  general  social  order  ;  the  exigencies  of  the  case.  I  may 
almost  say,  that  never  is  the  appeal  directly  made  between 
intelligent  parties  in  an  ethical  discussion  to  naked  custom 
and  its  penalties,  for  the  defence  of  a  line  of  conduct. 
This  is  a  fact  very  damaging  to  the  explanations  offered. 
Men  are  never  reverting  to  the  bare  fact  of  enforced  law, 
as  the  ground  and  justification  of  law  ;  yet  this  after  all  is 
made  the  source  of  the  sense  of  law.  Moreover,  in  the 
very  face  of  such  enforcement,  there  does  spring  up,  in  sin- 
gle minds,  a  moral  sentiment,  which  with  j)ure  moral  power 
breaks  down  institutions  hitherto  unanimously  sustained. 
We  thus  see  what  prescriptive  force  can  do ;  that  it  is  by  no 
means  identical  w^ith  morality,  and  that  it  constantly  comes 
in  conflict  with  the  power  this  manifests,  and  yields  to  it. 

(3)  Again,  this  theory  fails  most  signally  in  cases  in 
which  the  moral  phenomena  are  most  distinct.  In  the 
explanation  of  mixed  conduct,  of  actions  assuming  an  ethi- 
cal form,  disguising  themselves  under  moral  sentiments,  it 
prospers  somewhat ;  but  when  the  moral  element  is  promi- 


232  REASON. 

nent  and  pure,  it  comes  short.  A  conscientious  man  be- 
comes a  martyr  to  his  convictions  of  duty.  lie  stands 
against  the  community,  and  confronts  its  authority,  its  al- 
leged line  of  duty,  with  his  own  independent  convictions, 
his  own  sense  of  what  is  riglit.  All  the  explanation  of 
these  most  startling  and  pregnant  facts  in  the  w^orld's  moral 
history,  facts  that  above  all  others  catch  the  rational  eye, 
and  disclose  the  new  force  that  is  flaming  up  in  them,  is 
that  of  the  "  Self -originating  or  Idiosyncratic  Conscience." 
It  is  an  instance  of  "  the  transfer  of  the  sentiment  of  prohib- 
ition from  a  recognized  case,  to  one  not  recognized."  That 
is  to  say,  w^ith  no  notion  of  obligation  but  the  enforced  one 
of  education,  the  individual  may,  nevertheless,  transfer  it 
so  strictly  to  his  own  independent,  unsustained  speculation 
as  to  oppose  these  serenely  and  unhesitatingly  to  the  ut- 
most stretch  of  the  authority  of  the  community  over  him. 
This  is  a  transfer  indeed,  a  transfer  that  is  a  transformation, 
that  discloses  a  sentiment  in  kind  and  quality  totally  un- 
like that  w^ith  which  it  commenced.  It  went  into  the  co- 
coon a  worm,  it  comes  out  a  butterfly.  This  is  no  explan- 
ation ;  it  is  a  confession  of  defeat.  Better  w^ould  it  have 
been  to  have  left  the  phenomena  unexplained. 

(4)  Further,  we  do  not  day  by  day  imj^ose  duties  on 
others  in  the  manner  that  would  be  indicated  by  the  above 
theory.  Scarcely  anything  could  be  more  adverse  to  the 
methods  of  those  who  are  constantly  using  moral  force, 
who  are  addressing  and  stimulating  the  conscience,  than  an 
appeal  to  the  common  sentiments,  that  is  popular  senti- 
ments, of  those  approached.  Indeed,  to  such  persons  it 
would  seem  unworthy,  sometimes  even  absolutely  immoral 
to  urge  action  on  others  primarily  on  the  ground  of  the  cus- 
toms and  censures  of  general  society.  Nor  could  these  cen- 
sures often  be  made  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  morality. 
The  apostle  of  moral  truth  expects  more  frequently  than 


RIGHT. 


233 


otherwise  to  confront  this  public  sentiment,  and  his  appeal 
is  not  to  what  has  been  or  is,  but  to  the  individual  idea  of 
what  ought  to  be.  The  practice  therefore  which  would 
flow  logically  from  this  theory  of  enforced  morals,  is  not  at 
all  the'  practice  of  the  actual,  ethical  world ;  it  is  rather 
that  of  those  classes  who  are  feared  and  warred  against, 
as  always  careless  of  the  law  of  right,  and  often  disobedient 

to  it. 

Kindred  expositions,  insufficient  to  cover  the  facts  to 
which  they  are  applied,  are  found  everywhere  in  the  works 
of  philosophers  who  advocate  this  theory  of  morals.  "  By 
remorse,  we  understand  the  strongest  form  of  self-reproach 
arising  from  a  deep  downfall  of  self-respect  and  esteem." 
The  Emotions  and  the  Will,  page  106.  This  definition  ap- 
plies to  a  conspicuous  act  of  misjudgment,  and  most  plainly 
does  not  reach  the  fact  of  remorse.  Again,  love  is  said  to 
be  "  as  purely  self-seeking  as  any  other  pleasure,  and  to 
make  no  inquiry  as  to  the  feelings  of  the  beloved  personal- 
ity." This  assertion  leaves  out  the  entire  moral  element 
which  belongs  to  love  as  an  affection,  and  is  true  of  it  only 
as  a  passion.  The  peculiar  effect  of  "  signal  generosity  "  is 
referred  to  the  "  shock  "  given  to  the  "  mind  totally  unpre- 
pared" to  see  kind  offices  rendered  to  an  enemy.  Mill 
makes  our  sympathies  with  others  in  their  injuries  the  basis 
of  our  sentiments  of  justice,  a  condition  of  feeling,  certainly, 
which  as  often  perverts  justice  as  secures  it.  These  and 
kindred  solutions  show  the  weakness  of  utilitarianism  in 
handling  striking  moral  facts,  and  how  greatly  it  abridges 
and  mars  the  facts  themselves  by  a  forced,  belittling  esti- 
mate of  them. 

Xor  is  the  sense  of  obligation  any  more  satisfactorily  ac- 
counted for  under  this  theory  by  referring  it  directly  to  the 
idea  of  utility.  At  times,  Mr.  Mill  seems  ready  to  do  this. 
As  the  useful,  in  the  concrete,  is  the  pleasurable,  this  refer- 


^34  BEASON. 

ence  would  involve  the  assertion,  that  pleasure,  as  pleasure, 
is  felt  in  human  experience  to  be  obligatory.  This  would 
farther  include  the  statement,  the  stronger  the  pleasure  the 
greater  the  sense  of  duty ;  and,  as  our  own  enjoyments 
are  more  distinctly  conceived  than  those  of  others,  that 
these  are  pre-eminently  enforced  in  j^ractical  morals  ;  and 
farther,  as  present  gratification  yields  more  intense  feeling 
than  anticipated  indulgence,  that  the  pleasures  of  the  hour 
are  especially  watched  over  by  conscience.  Each  and  all  of 
these  conclusions  are  in  exact  contradiction  of  the  facts.  If 
there  is  anything  in  reference  to  which  we  feel  ourselves 
left  to  our  own  unrestrained  choices,  it  is  our  pleasures. 
The  moral  nature  has  not  laid  upon  it  the  su23erlluous  task 
of  enforcing  these  ;  but  rather  that  of  restraining  them. 
By  playing  cunningly  between  the  two,  public  sentiment 
on  the  one  hand,  and  utility  on  the  other,  some  embarrass- 
ments may  be  evaded  by  the  theorist ;  yet  neither  nor  both 
can  be  successfully  made  the  source  of  the  sense  of  duty. 
"When  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  any,  the  wisest 
statement  of  the  utilitarian  law^,  as  for  instance  that  we  are 
to  seek  the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number,  how  is  that 
statement  to  gain  any  authority  with  us  ?  Evidently  by 
our  rational  penetration  into  its  inmost  quality.  Enforced 
in  any  other  way  on  us  it  loses  power  to  bless  us.  Its  in- 
trinsic fitness  does  not  save  it,  if  w^e  do  not  see  that  fit- 
ness. Enforced  obedience  is  slavery  for  all  the  parties  in- 
volved in  it.  Insight  is  the  only  refuge  of  manhood. 
Ultimate,  honorable  guidance  must  come  to  us  through  our 
own  powers. 

While  these  failures  of  explanation  rob  utilitarianism  of 
all  claims  to  acceptance,  is  there  not  in  it  a  yet  deeper 
difficulty  in  supposing  that  a  simple  notion,  like  tliat  of 
obligation,  can  be  other  than  primitive  and  independent  of 
the  action  of  society  ?     What  would  be  thought  of  a  pliilos- 


RIGHT.  235 

ophy  that  sliould  refer  compassion,  love,  hope,  as  induced 
feelings,  to  the  influence  of  others  over  the  mind.  Evi- 
dently all  extraneous  action  is  of  no  avail  to  awaken  a  feel- 
ing not  given  in  the  emotional  constitution  itself.  A  sense 
of  duty,  of  obligation,  is  as  simple  as  any  emotion  can  be 
and  if  we  acknowledge  its  presence,  we  must  look  on  it  as 
primitive  in  our  constitution.  But  a  sense  of  obligation  is 
not  intelligible  as  a  general  unattached  feeling,  indicating 
no  definite  line  of  conduct,  haunting  the  mind  as  a  vague 
premonitory  fear,  ready  to  be  seized  on  by  the  first  foreign 
force,  to  be  applied  as  an  alien  impulse,  having  no  necess- 
ary existence  in  the  individual  nor  office  for  him.  The  im- 
posed opinion  of  others  can  not  create  a  feeling ;  the  feeling 
of  duty,  like  every  feeling,  must  have  a  deeper  basis  than 
this.  A  general  notion  of  obligation,  with  no  intellectual 
element,  no  specific  direction  given  to  it  by  the  mind  wliose 
it  is,  is  as  incomprehensible  as  would  be  a  general  impres- 
sion of  truth,  or  delight  in  truth,  with  notliing  presenting 
itself  as  truth  ;  or  a  vague  satisfaction  in  beauty,  with  no 
object  regarded  by  us  as  beautiful.  What  can  be  found 
in  our  constitution,  allied  to  such  an  unattached,  unelicited 
emotion  ?  The  vague  feelings  of  fear  sometimes  present  to 
the  mind  nevertheless  disclose  to  more  careful  inquiry  some 
occasion  and  ground  of  attachment  in  past  experience  and 
existing  circumstances. 

There  are  but  two  open,  plausible  theories  of  our  moral 
constitution ;  the  one  which  recognizes  it  as  an  original,  in- 
dependent part  of  our  constitution  ;  and  the  one  which, 
through  generalization,  explains  its  manifestations  by  the 
facts  of  our  physical  and  social  position,  making  utility  and 
public  sentiment  the  germs  of  its  intellectual  and  emotional 
elements.  The  last,  in  its  pure,  naked  form,  produces  a 
far  off  semblance  of  the  facts,  replacing  love  and  duty 
with  fear  and  interest,  and  mistaking  the  forces  at  work  in 


236  REASON. 

a  selfish,  immoral  world,  for  tlio  true  constitutional  links  of 
a  higher,  a  holier,  state. 

There  arc,  however,  theories  which  strive  to  combine 
these  two,  and  while,  in  the  last  analysis,  they  are  utilitarian 
in  their  principles,  they  keep  aloof  from  the  avowal,  and 
include  elements  which  only  logically  belong  to  an  intuitive 
philosophy.  Utilitarianism  relies  on  the  happiness  afforded 
by  correct  action  as  the  sole  motive  to  it,  and  falls  short  of 
ethics  in  not  being  able  to  impose  any  line  of  action  with 
authority,  or  to  enforce  one  form  of  enjoyment  in  prefer- 
ence to  another.  Indeed,  it  has  no  sufficient  standard  by 
which  to  decide  between  pleasures,  and  to  prefer  one  class 
above  another.  The  question  of  the  actual  satisfaction  ex- 
perienced by  diiferent  persons  in  different  lines  of  action 
must,  like  that  of  physical  tastes,  be  left  with  the  individ- 
ual, and  if  he  prefer  physical,  to  intellectual  and  social  en- 
joyments, one  cannot,  under  a  mere  law  of  highest  grati- 
fication, impose  on  him  the  opinions  of  others.  I  do  not 
need  to  inquire  of  a  philosopher  as  to  which  apple  is  sweet 
and  which  sour,  which  agreeable  and  which  disagreeable  ; 
nor  shall  I  much  respect  his  view  if  it  differs  from  my  own. 
Thus,  in  all  questions  of  pure  pleasure,  each  man  has  his 
bias,  and  is  not  likely  to  yield  it  to  a  speculation  that  runs 
counter  to  his  own  experience,  the  final  interpreter  to  him 
of  the  nature  and  quality  of  enjoyments. 

An  effort  to  obviate  this  difficulty  has  been  made  by 
affirming  the  superior  character  of  moral  pleasures,  and 
from  this  supreme  quality  refiecting  back  on  the  actions 
which  secure  it  a  sense  of  obligation.  Herein  is  found  the 
stolen  element  of  a  better  theory.  If  we  rely  on  the  good 
which  diverse  lines  of  conduct  produce  to  define  and  enforce 
our  action,  then  we  are  entitled  to  these  several  kinds  and 
degrees  of  satisfaction  to  direct  and  establish  conduct,  and 
to  no  more.     Let  all   the  sources  of  pleasure,  making  the 


RIGHT.  237 

catalogue  as  discriminating  and  exhaustive  as  you  please,  be 
represented  by  the  letters  A,  B,  C,  D,  E.  Let  each  one 
choose  between  them  as  he,  under  the  guidance  of  his  own 
tastes  and  capabilities,  is  able,  in  kind,  degree,  duration,  dif- 
ficulty of  attainment ;  and  thus  mark  out  for  himself  the 
path  of  prudence.  He  can  not  now  go  farther,  and  add  to 
the  motives  urging  any  one  proposed  line  of  conduct  a  pe- 
culiar blessedness  which  is  to  crown  it  as  right  above  all 
others.  This  is  to  establish  again  in  our  constitution  a  moral 
law,  to  restore  to  it  intrinsic  obligation,  and  thus  secure  the 
unspeakable  satisfaction  of  obedience.  All  that  our  quiet, 
careful  reasoner,  overlooking  the  various  sources  of  jDleasure, 
and  choosing  between  them,  is  entitled  to,  is,  if  he  select 
wisely,  the  satisfaction  of  sagacity.  He  is  always  right  when 
he  is  prudent,  and  the  rewards  of  right  sink  to  those  of 
prudence.  The  self-congratulation  of  shrewdness,  takes  the 
place  of  the  blessedness  of  a  law  implicitly  obeyed,  clung 
to  in  darkness  and  in  light.  ^N^o  peculiar  happiness  can 
follow  obedience  to  riglit,  till  we  have  recognized  it  as  an 
antecedent,  supreme,  self-enforced  law.  As  long  as  it  re- 
mains a  line  of  conduct  resting  for  support  on  its  pleasura- 
ble results,  it  must  look  to  these  exclusively,  adding  noth- 
ing to  them  save  the  satisfaction  of  sagacity.  The  right 
must  come  before  the  satisfaction  which  springs  from  obey- 
ing it. 

Herein  is  revealed  a  difficulty  which  more  or  less  em- 
barrasses every  presentation  of  the  utilitarian  theory.  We 
grant,  that  what  is  right  is  always  ultimately  in  a  broad 
sense  useful,  but  the  moral  nature,  itself  an  independent 
means  of  gratification,  a  pre-eminent  source  of  good,  is 
often  the  necessary  condition  of  its  being  so.  The  martyr 
sets  this  one  pleasure  over  against  all  other  pleasures,  and 
wisely;  yet  he  never  would  have  done  this,  if  he  had  started 
with  the  idea  that  the  right  action  is  only  the   sagacious 


238  REASON. 

choice  between  enjoyments  other  than  those  which  belong 
to  the  moral  constitution.  We  are  not  in  onr  theories  to 
have,  and  not  to  have,  at  the  same  time,  tlie  law  and  the 
rewards  of  the  moral  intuition.  AYe  are  not  to  make  ethi- 
cal pleasures  to  arise  simply  from  the  successful  pursuit  of 
other  pleasures,  and  yet  allow  them  themselves  to  be  fur- 
tively included  among  these  23leasures  between  which  w^e 
are  deciding.  Many  lines  of  action  are  obviously  useful 
when  accompanied  with  the  gratification  of  our  moral  sen- 
sibilities, which  are  not  so,  when  these  as  indej^endent 
sources  of  good  are  left  out  of  the  calculation,  as  they  must 
be  in  any  honest  evolution  of  a  utilitarian  theory. 

Spencer,  in  his  Data  of  Ethics,  falls  headlong  into  this 
error.  He  affirms  that  life  is  for  the  sake  of  pleasure, 
and  therefore  that  "  that  conduct  is  good  which  subserves 
life."  If  we  suppose  perfection  of  character,  he  argues, 
to  lead  only  to  pain,  then  that  perfection  itself  disappears. 
He  herein  overlooks  two  obvious  relations.  Virtue  can  not 
be  separated  from  the  satisfaction  that  virtue  occasions. 
This  is  to  cut  into  parts  a  living  thing ;  this  is  to  destroy 
the  very  notion,  and  of  course  if  the  notion  becomes  some- 
thing other  than  what  it  is,  the  results  will  be  correspond- 
ingly different.  Nor  does  it  follow  that  because  satisfac- 
tion necessarily  attaches  to  virtue,  that  that  satisfaction,  as 
a  new  pleasure,  is  the  motive  of  virtue.  A  disinterested 
act  as  disinterested  is  peculiarly  pleasurable.  If  one  "  is 
blessed  in  performing  an  act  of  mercy,"  he  is  blessed 
because  he  did  it  as  an  act  of  mercy  in  oversight  of  per- 
sonal interest.  Confusion  at  this  point  ought  not  to  be  any 
longer  possible.  The  w^ord  pleasure  is  also  plainly  of  a 
very  generic  order.  There  are  the  most  marked  differences 
in  pleasures  in  kind  as  well  as  in  degree.  Yet  if  the  utili- 
tarian grants  this,  all  his  weights  and  measures  are  at  once 
broken. 


RIGHT.  239 

Nor  is  the  intuitive  philosophy,  rightly  presented,  at  all 
open  to  the  repeated  taunts  of  Bentham,  that  each  individ- 
ual by  a  blind  irrational  power  may  thus  pretend  to  decide 
what  is  right,  and  capriciously  lay  down  a  law  absolute  for 
himself  and  for  others.  All  the  investigation  that  Ben- 
tham or  any  other  philosopher  may  bring  to  the  practical 
effects  of  action,  to  its  immediate  and  ultimate  results,  finds 
a  place  in  our  moral  judgments.  It  is  in  full  intellections 
made  up  by  exhaustive  inquiry,  that  the  reason  sees  the 
right.  We  might  as  well  say,  because  the  judge  authorita- 
tively decides  a  case,  it  is  of  no  avail  for  the  lawyers  thor- 
oughly to  present  it,  as  to  say,  that  because  conscience  ad- 
judicates between  right  and  wrong,  it  is  of  no  moment  that 
the  action  to  which  the  discussion  pertains  should  be  fully 
understood.  It  is  the  intellectual  conception  of  this  action 
which  is  declared  right,  and  if  this  conception  is  incom- 
plete, then  a  verdict  intrinsically  correct  is  practically  false, 
as  pronounced  on  a  hypothetical  case  and  not  a  real  one. 
The  last  decision,  that  of  conscience,  we  believe  to  be  cor- 
rect ;  the  presentation  of  the  case,  that  on  which  this  de- 
cision is  made,  to  be  often  incorrect.  Here  enter  the  full 
fruits  of  investigation  and  protracted  experience,  an  oppor- 
tunity for  a  broad,  honest,  faithful  survey  of  the  facts  of 
the  exact  case  to  be  made  up  and  presented  at  the  judg- 
ment-seat of  the  ethical  sense.  This  merely  gives  the 
weight  of  law  to  what  the  other  faculties  have  pronounced 
prudent  and  wise.  There  is  no  more  opportunity  for 
caprice  and  individual  assumption  here  than  in  any  debate 
concerning  the  qualities  and  bearings  of  actions. 

We  designate  in  common  language  as  conscience  that 
action  of  the  reason  which  discovers  the  right,  and  this  is 
the  ground  or  centre  of  our  entire  moral  nature.  Any 
theory  which  regards  obligation  as  simple  and  ultimate, 
therein  accepts  the  intuitive  and  independent  nature  of  the 


24:0  REASON. 

right,  in  the  meaning  in  which  we  have  employed  it.  Ob- 
ligation must  arise  in  view  of  something,  and  in  view  of  it 
in  a  moral  relation.  The  two  are  as  indivisible  as  the  fla- 
vor and  savor  of  a  peach,  the  perception  of  the  one  and  the 
enjoyment  of  the  other. 

The  svstem  of  ethics  to  be  evolved  from  the  above  view 
is  briefly  this.  All  moral  emotions,  the  entire  moral  nature 
is  conditioned  on  a  moral  intuition,  which  we  term  that  of 
right.  This  relation  of  rational  acts,  arrived  at  by  a  simple 
stroke  of  the  eye  of  reason,  in  grounds  previously  unfolded, 
and  which  uniformly  relate  to  the  actions  of  free,  intelligent 
sensitive  beings,  involves  as  an  inseparable  element  the  feel- 
ing of  obligation.  Here  is  the  final  authority  of  morals  in 
the  moral  intuition.  A  reason  can  be  given  for  the  decis- 
ions of  conscience  in  this  sense,  that  the  character  and  bear- 
ings of  the  acts  pronounced  right  can  be  given ;  not  in  this 
sense,  that  the  intellectually  discerned  relations  of  these  ac- 
tions are,  aside  from  a  distinct  action  of  the  moral  faculty 
upon  them,  a  ground  of  obligation.  JSTo  "  good,"  as  a  good 
can  give  a  law,  can  give  a  moral  basis  of  action,  since  to  do 
this  it  must  go  beyond  its  own  appetitive  range,  and  reach 
into  the  moral  field  of  authority.  It  is  to  account  for  au- 
thority that  we  invoke  the  moral  nature. 

S  12.  The  third  idea  reo-ulative  of  our  intellectual  life 
is  that  of  beauty.  Concerning  the  existence  at  this  point 
of  peculiar  phenomena  that  require  explanation,  there  is  no 
discussion.  Yet  results  of  analysis  are  quite  different ;  some 
reaching  a  simple,  original  idea ;  others  resolving  beauty 
into  utility,  or  unity  and  variety,  or  making  it  the  product 
of  association.  That  beauty  is  intimately  connected  with 
utility,  that  it  is  always  accompanied  by  unity  and  variety, 
that  taste  is  strongly  influenced  by  association,  and,  in  some 
cases  overshadowed  by  it,  are  undeniable;  yet  that  these 
explanations,  in   conflict   among   themselves,  fail   each   of 


BEAUTY.  241 

them  to  cover  tlie  entire  facts,  seems  equally  plain.  Beauty 
is  not  proportioned  to  utility,  is  not  always  attendant  upon 
it  and  exists  sometimes  with  little  or  no  utility,  save  that 
which  the  gratification  of  taste  itself  affords.  Unity  and 
variety  are  frequently  present  with  no  corresponding  beauty, 
belong  to  structures  which  do  not  pertain  to  the  fine  arts, 
and  thus  show  an  independent  existence  and  range.  As- 
sociation explains  many  of  the  judgments  of  those  who  give 
little  attention  to  intrinsic  beauty,  who  under  the  influence 
of  others  yield  their  opinions  to  be  swayed  by  the  prevalent 
sentiment ;  yet  just  in  proportion  as  the  presence  of  taste  is 
manifest,  as  the  perception  of  beauty  is  developed,  as  the 
phenomena  to  be  accounted  for  are  obvious  and  declared, 
this  explanation  fails.  The  leaders  in  fine  art  have  no 
hidier  association  from  which  to  derive  their  estimates  of 

C5 

excellence,  while  the  different,  external,  accidental  pleas- 
ures, that  may  for  them  incidentally  find  connection  with 
w^orks  of  art,  are  no  sufficient  ground  for  their  uniform  es- 
timates, singling  these  forth  in  all  generations  as  objects  of 
peculiar  power  and  value.  ' 

But  this  theory  of  association,  of  character  transferred  to 
objects  of  beauty  from  the  relations  in  which  we  find  them, 
is  met  by  the  fact  that  we  have  a  pertinent  example  of  what 
association  can  do  in  this  same  direction  in  affecting  our  es- 
timates of  things ;  and  that  it  wholly  fails  to  sustain  the 
explanation  here  offered  of  the  facts  of  taste.  The  admira- 
tion the  general  public  express  for  a  new  fashion  is  almost 
wdiolly  due  to  association,  and  w^hat  are  its  characteristics  ? 
This  esteem  is  fickle,  contradictory,  and  wholly  destitute  of 
standards  of  judgment.  Though  in  the  present,  unanimity 
may  be  complete,  successive  periods  differ  greatly  in  the 
forms  rejected  and  accepted.  Fortuity  and  the  most  extrav- 
agant fancies  reign,  and  are  equally  imperious  in  their  con* 
tradictory  commands.     The  whole  realm  of  fashion  is  one  of. 


242  REASON. 

unreasoning  association,  and  it  stands  in  conspicuous  con- 
trast with  that  of  taste,  refuting  the  explanation  offered  of 
its  stable  phenomena.  The  uniform  admiration  bestowed 
by  different  nations  and  generations  on  objects  of  beauty ; 
the  first  liigh  estimates  which  give  direction  to  public  opin- 
ion ;  the  word  beauty,  accepting  in  careful  speech  no  syn- 
onym ;  the  fine  arts,  a  distinctly  bounded  territory,  eliciting 
the  most  skillful  and  prolonged  attention ;  and  the  well-es- 
tablished principles  of  this  department,  show  that  the  fickle 
fanciful  connections  of  association  furnish  no  sufficient  the- 
ory of  taste. 

That  the  quality,  beauty,  accepted  as  unresolvable  into 
any  other,  is  of  intuitive  origin  is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  it  is 
not  directly  a  quality  of  things,  but  of  intellections.     An 
intellection   is  the  product   of   the   mind.     The   qualities, 
forms,  and  relations  of  an  object — its  expression — are  by 
studious  observation  brought  before  the  mind.     This  esti- 
mate which  the  intellect  makes  of  all  that  unfolds  the  char- 
acter, the  emotional  power  of  an  object,  is  an  intellection, 
and   in  the   object   thus   conceived,  thus  unfolded  in  the 
thoughts,   beauty  is  seen  to  inhere.     As  beauty  thus  does 
not  belong  to  a  flower,  a  tree,  a  landscape,  a  bird,  a  man, 
merely  as  a  sensible  object,  but  to  them  as  products  of  an 
arranging,  vitalizing,  perfecting  power ;  as  it  is  seen  not 
in  the  thing  simply,  but  in  it  as  conceived  by  the  mind, 
it  must  be  the  object  of  an  interior,  intuitive  faculty,  which 
can  take  into  its  contemplation  the  appropriate  intellection. 
An  act  of  exposition  more  or  less  complete,  has  followed 
perception,  and  thus  the  object  has  been  taken  from  the 
senses  into  the  mind,  and  there  awaits  the  insight  of  the 
reason.      The   qualities  one  and   all  which   make   up   the 
expression  pronounced  beautiful  are  not  the  very  beauty 
which  we  attribute  to  the  cathedral,  the  painting,  or  the 
statue.     The  skill,  proportion,  height  of  the  towering  edifice 


THE  INFINITE.  243 

may  be  discerned  separately  from  that  final  effect,  that 
joint  and  supersensnal  power,  that  more  than  analytic  pleas- 
ure, which  we  term  beauty.  This  is  not  the  craft  of  tlie 
workman,  the  single  nor  the  combined  excellence  s  of  the 
work,  but  an  overshadowing  power  through  which  these 
liave  their  chief  value,  by  which  the  seal  of  a  line  art  is  j^ut 
upon  them.  The  intellectual  relations  of  an  object,  capable 
only  of  an  inner  presentation,  are  that  in  which,  as  sub- 
stance, the  reason  sees  beauty  to  inhere.  Beauty  is  not 
these  simply,  though  it  comes  and  goes  with  their  varying 
combinations. 

§  13.  It  only  remains  to  speak  of  the  infinite,  the  last 
of  the  intuitive  ideas,  and  one  that  has  recently  given  rise 
to  much  discussion.  It  finds  application  in  several  direc- 
tions, and  perhaps,  in  the  development  of  the  mind,  as  early 
to  space  as  to  any  other  form  of  thought.  The  notion  of 
space  cannot  be  dwelt  on  without  soon  suggesting  this  idea 
of  the  infinite.  The  mind  soon  sees  the  inapplicability 
of  any  measures,  limits,  finite  relations  to  space,  and  that, 
in  the  very  moment  of  establishment,  they  are  swept  away 
by  the  on-going  movement.  Space  lies  without,  as  much 
as  within,  any  line  we  choose  to  run,  and  the  nearer  has 
no  advantage  over  the  farther  side.  The  mind  under  this 
new  necessity  laid  upon  it,  with  this  new  occasion  given 
to  it,  grasps  the  idea  of  the  infinite,  of  unmeasured  and  im- 
measurable extension.  This  conception  is  not  the  result  of 
mere  weariness,  is  not  the  afiirmation  of  an  inability  to  pro- 
ceed farther,  does  not  spring  from  repeated  and  reiterated 
failure  ;  it  is  rather  the  force  and  insight  of  the  mind  that 
disclose  it.  It  is  seen  that  there  can  be  no  advantage  in 
pressing  the  imagination  to  its  utmost  flight,  tliat  the  con- 
ditions which  are  now  present  at  this  point  of  space,  must 
recur  everywhere,  no  matter  what  the  position  attained  by 
us ;  that  one  point  and  one  position  here  or  there,  that  each 


244  REASON. 

bound  longer  or  shorter,  are  facsimiles  of  every  other,  and 
therefore  contain  the  solution  of  the  problem  as  perfectly 
as  if  it  had  been  raced  after  with  the  most  wearisome 
efforts.  The  mind  does  not  then  distress  itself  in  search  of 
a  limit,  and  fail ;  it  discovers  that  there  can  be  no  limit ;  it 
penetrates  the  conditions  of  the  problem,  and  brings  for- 
ward the  notion  of  a  true  infinite,  which  it  sets  over  against 
the  finite,  and  is  at  rest,  as  it  knows  that  nothing  other  or 
more  is  to  be  found  elsewhere. 

Thus  the  mind  hits  upon  the  true  infinite,  not  by  expe- 
rience, not  by  exhaustive  effort,  but  by  its  own  penetration 
of  relations ;  and  through  this  idea  it  understands  another 
of  the  conditions  of  its  experience,  and  declines  exertion 
whicli  it  sees  to  be  necessarily  futile.  Standing,  not  mov- 
ing ;  by  insight,  not  by  baffled  effort,  it  grasps  and  hence- 
forth uses  this  notion,  so  super-sensual  in  character,  so 
necessary  for  the  exposition  of  the  being  we  possess,  the 
universe  we  inhabit.  Space,  as  infinite,  aclmits  of  no  divi- 
sion. No  plane  can  cleave  it,  no  line  pierce  it.  In  strict 
language,  it  is  without  parts,  at  least  so  far  as  these  imply 
remainders.  The  true  infinite  is  subject  to  no  addition, 
subtraction,  multiplication  or  divison.  These  are  processes 
which  find  play  in  the  finite  alone. 

A  second  point  at  which  this  notion  arises  early  is  in  the 
contemplation  of  time.  Here,  too,  the  mind  discovers  that 
the  conditions  of  conception  are  not  in  the  least  varied  by 
movement,  and  that  the  years  which  beheld  the  laying  of 
the  foundations  of  the  world  were  no  less  central  than  those 
which  now  are,  or  those  which  shall  behold  its  overthrow. 
Geologic  geons  lie  lapped  in  eternity,  with  no  more  power  of 
measurement  than  the  point  which  defines  pure  position  on 
the  board  before  me.  Here  again  there  is  no  opportunity 
to  take  aught  from,  or  add  aught  to  the  infinite,  to  eternity. 
Indeed  we  may  not  strike  it  into  two  infinite  halves  by  this 


THE  INFINITE.  245 

fleeting  moment  the  present,  as  if  it  were  a  node  jointing 
the   past  to  the  future.      A  hemis]3liere  is   not   a  sphere 
because  it  meets  on  one  side  the  conditions  of  the  defini- 
tion.    A  true  infinite    must  be  immeasureable  in  all   the 
directions  in  which  measurement  can  be  applied.     A  for- 
ward or  a  backward  stretch,  leaving  a  definite,  finite  period 
in  the  opposite  direction,  constitutes  no  true  infinite  ;  the 
lines  which  pass  out  from  any  given  point  are  not  infinite, 
they  lack  an  essential  feature  of  the  infinite,  interminable- 
ness.     They  are  limited  in  one   direction.     We  are  always 
to  distinguish  between  the  indefinitely  great  and  the   in- 
finite.    Mathematics  deals  with  the  one,  metaphysics  with 
the  other.     A  series  of  figures  increased  as  you  please,  can 
never  express  an  infinite  amount,  and  therefore  no  infinite 
can  be  twice  or  thrice  as  great   as  another  infinite.     This 
borne  constantly  in  mind,  and  we  shall  easily  dispose  of 
a  portion   of  the  perplexities  Sir  William   Hamilton  has 
thrown  around  the  subject. 

"  A  quantity,  say  a  foot,  has  an  infinity  of  parts.  Any 
part  of  this  quantity,  say  an  inch,  has  also  an  infinity.  But 
one  infinity  is  not  larger  than  another.  Therefore  an  inch 
is  equal  to  a  foot."  Neither  an  inch,  nor  a  foot,  nor  any 
other  definite  quantity,  has  an  infinity  of  parts— parts  that 
are  parts,  that  have  any  size,  w^ll  exhaust  any  dimensions 
short  of  the  infinite,  and  the  quotient  still  remain  finite. 
"  A  wheel  turned  with  quickest  motion ;  if  a  spoke  be  pro- 
longed, it  will  therefore  be  moved  with  a  motion  quicker 
than  the  quickest." 

This  example  and  similar  examples,  are  mere  riddles 
arising  under  a  play  of  words.  There  is  no  absolutely 
quickest  motion,  and  no  motion  that  is  infinitely  rapid. 
The  perplexity  in  these  cases  does  not  all  spring  from  the 
notion  of  the  infinite,  but  from  the  effort  of  the  imagina- 
tion to  transcend  its  own  conditions  in  a  false  search  by  a 


246  REASON. 

false  method  after  tlie  infinite,  or  tlie  infinitesimal.  The 
imagination  must  have  finite,  phenomenal  quantities  to  deal 
with.  These,  therefore,  are  always  capable  both  of  mul- 
tiplication and  division.  The  fancy  may  carry  on  the  proc- 
ess till  it  gets  weary ;  confounded  with  the  results,  it  may 
mistake  its  own  embarrassments  for  those  of  the  entire  mind. 
It  does  this  only  by  overlooking  and  denying  the  true  na- 
ture of  the  infinite,  and  the  source  whence  alone  it  can  be 
rationally  looked  for.  It  should  not  distress  tlie  mind,  be- 
cause the  end  of  a  circle  can  not  be  found  by  chasing  round 
and  round  it.  JS^o  more  should  it,  because  that  which  has 
not  dimensions  cannot  be  reached  by  cutting  down,  and  at 
the  same  time  saving,  that  which  has.  This  is  striving  in 
the  same  instant  and  act  to  hold  on  to  the  finite,  and  to 
take  it  away,  to  keep  it  and  to  get  beyond  it  to  the  in- 
finitisimal.  It  is  no  more  a  startling  and  discouraging  fact, 
that  the  imagination  can  make  nothing  out  of  nothing,  nor 
give  limits  to  that  which  is  without  limits,  than  it  is  that 
the  body  can  not  be  suspended  by  a  spider's  thread.  Re- 
move the  support  beyond  a  certain  amount  in  either  case, 
and  there  must  be  a  downfall. 

A  third  direction  in  which  this  notion  is  applicable,  is 
to  the  attributes  of  God.  God  is  infinite  in  power,  in  wis- 
dom, in  goodness  ;  that  is  there  are  no  limits  to  these  attri- 
butes within  their  own  nature.  All  that  power  can  do,  the 
power  of  God  is  able  to  do.  The  infinite  in  space  presents 
itself  under  other  forms  from  the  infinite  in  time,  and  both 
of  these  in  a  way  yet  different  from  the  infinite  in  power. 
The  nature  of  power  is  not  altered  by  the  affirmation  of  its 
infinite  extent.  This  merely  removes  its  limits.  It  can  no 
more  do  now  than  before  what  is  not  pertinent  to  its  nature, 
what  must  be  the  product  of  wisdom  or  of  grace.  The  no- 
tion, in  its  aj^plication  to  God,  comes  to  assume  those  per- 
sonal relations,  that  independent   perfection   of  existence, 


THE  INFINITE.  - .  247 

which  we  designate  by  the  Infinite  the  Absolute.  God  is 
thus  lifted  above  the  reflex  action  of  causes,  as  well  as 
above  their  antecedent  action.  Not  only  is  nothing  back 
of  Him,  there  is  nothing  before  Him,  giving  condition  and 
law  ah  extra  to  His  nature.  God  as  infinite  is  not  limited 
in  action ;  as  absolute,  he  is  not  straitened  by  any  reaction. 
The  material  with  which  man  works,  limits  the  work  ;  no 
limitations  reach  the  labors  of  God  save  those  contemplated 
and  established  in  his  creative  thought.  The  infinite  in 
this  form,  in  these  its  various  applications,  we  must  defend 
as  a  positive,  intuitive  idea— indeed,  if  it  be  an  idea  at  all, 
it  must  be  an  intuitive  idea. 

The  first  objections  against  the  positive,  valid  character 
of  this  notion  which  we  shall  consider,  are  those  of  Sir 
William  Hamilton,  presented  under  w^hat  he  terms.  The 
Law  of  the  Conditioned.  It  is  claimed,  that  this  impres- 
sion, like  that  of  causality,  arises  from  the  powerlessness  of 
the  mind,  not  from  its  insight.  The  line  of  argument  is 
much  the  same  as  in  the  case  of  causation.  The  following 
wdth  omissions,  is  his  presentation  of  the  subject.  It  is 
found  in  the  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  p.  527. 

"  We  are  altogether  unable  to  conceive  space  as  bounded, 
as  finite  ;  that  is  as  a  whok  beyond  which  there  is  no  far- 
ther space.  •  •  •  On  the  other  hand,  we  are  equally  power- 
less to  realize  in  thought  the  possibility  of  the  opposite  con- 
tradictory ;  we  cannot  conceive  space  as  infinite,  as  without 
limits.  You  may  launch  out  in  thought  beyond  the  solar 
walk,  you  may  transcend  in  fancy  even  the  universe  of  mat 
ter,  and  rise  from  sphere  to  sphere  in  the  region  of  empty 
space  until  imagination  sinks  exhausted  ;  with  all  this,  what 
have  you  done  ?  You  have  never  gone  beyond  the  finite. 
•  •  Now  then,  both  contradictions  are  equally  inconceiv- 
able, both  are  equally  incomprehensible;  and  yet,  though 
unable  to  view  either  as  possible,  we  are  forced  by  a  higher 


248  REASON. 

law — that  of  excluded  middle — to  admit  that  one  and  but 
one  only  is  necessary."  He  then  treats  in  the  same  way 
the  minimum  of  space,  the  maximum  and  minimum  of 
time,  and  proceeds,  "  The  sum  therefore  of  what  I  have 
now  stated,  is  :  that  the  conditioned  is  that  which  is  alone 
conceivable,  or  cogitable.  The  unconditioned  that  which  is 
inconceivable  or  incogi table.  The  conditioned  or  the  think- 
able lies  between  two  extremes  or  poles."  Later  he  says, 
"  These  poles  are  the  absolute  and  the  infinite ;  the  term 
absolute  expressing  that  which  is  finished  or  complete  ;  the 
term  infinite  that  which  can  not  be  terminated  or  con- 
cluded." 

The  doctrine  of  the  law  of  the  conditioned  is  the  most 
characteristic  feature  of  the  philosophy  of  Hamilton,  and 
is  open  to  obvious  and  fatal  objections.  It  does  not  explain 
(1)  why  the  mind  is  thus  embarrassed  in  its  conception  of 
the  maximum  and  minimum  of  sj)ace  and  time ;  nor  (2) 
why  it  is  ever  led  to  vex  and  torment  itself  with  these  im- 
possibilities, forsaking  the  conditioned  where  traveling  is 
comfortable  and  profitable,  to  scale  cloud-heights  which 
never  give  foothold  to  the  foolhardy  assailant  ;  nor  yet, 
most  strange  omission,  (3)  why  of  two  impossible  concep- 
tions equally  perplexing,  we  are  called  on  to  accept  the  one, 
that  of  infinite  space,  infinite  time,  in  place  of  the  other, 
that  of  bounded  space  and  time.  A  better  theory  is  able 
to  offer  an  explanation  of  these  difficulties.  The  mind  is 
baffled  in  a  conception  of  a  maximum  and  minimum  of 
space,  because  a  faculty  is  set  to  the  task  which  deals  ex- 
clusively with  the  phenomenal,  and  it  is  no  more  curious  or 
surprising  that  the  imagination  can  not  attain  to  the  infin- 
ite, than  that  these  limbs  of  ours  can  not  mount  a  sunbeam, 
and  so  reach  the  heavens ;  or,  more  aptly,  than  that  we  can 
not  see,  hear,  smell  the  infinite  ;  since  the  senses  are  the 
analogues  of  the  fancy,  both  covering  in  a  different  way  the 


THE  INFINITE.  249 

same  field.  AVe  have  given  tlie  imagination  a  work  to  it 
impossible  and  preposterous.  Why  are  there  these  excur- 
sions of  fancy  into  impracticable  regions  ?  Because  over- 
looking the  direct,  intuitive  grasp  of  the  mind,  and  still 
haunted  by  the  notion  of  the  infinite,  we  put  spurs  to  the 
steeds  of  the  imagination  to  see  if  we  may  not  in  this  way 
overtake  it.  The  sober,  plodding  judgment  turns  aside 
from  the  thinkable  to  the  unthinkable,  in  hunt  of  a  ghostly 
conception  which  is  real  enough  to  bewilder  the  eye  with 
strange  appearances,  but  too  unsubstantial  to  be  grasped  and 
handled  in  physical  fashion.  To  pursue  spirits  or  flee  from 
spirits  on  horseback  is  of  little  avail,  though, with  man's 
belief  in  the  spiritual  world,  the  nature  of  the  pursuit  and 
its  philosophy  are  sufficiently  plain  to  the  quiet  looker-on. 

A  most  fatal  failure  of  this  theory  is  to  explain  why 
we  uniformly  and  certainly  accept  infinite  space  which  has 
no  advantage  to  the  mind  over  the  supposition  of  finite 
space.  This  embarrassment  at  once  disappears,  if  we  sup- 
pose the  notion  a  positive  one,  provided  by  the  mind  to  be 
placed  in  explanation  and  comprehension  over  against  the 
finite.  The  theory  of  Hamilton  succeeds  in  eliciting  the 
perplexities  of  the  subject,  but  brings  to  them  no  solution. 

But  it  will  be  said,  the  intuitive  theory  has  its  own  and 
yet  more  fatal  difticulties.  How  can  the  infinite  be  a  posi- 
tive idea  ?  Yery  easily,  if  we  assign  it  to  the  right  faculty, 
and  make  it  simple  and  ultimate  ;  as  easily  and  intelligibly 
as  red  is  red,  or  sweet,  sweet.  In  neither  case  can  we  go 
beyond  the  ultimate  fact,  and  we  have  fortunately  learned 
in  the  more  familiar  instance  to  give  up  the  effort.  This 
objection  may  come  in  the  form  of  a  second  theory  of  the 
infinite,  to  wit,  that  the  notion  is  a  negative  not  a  positive 
one,  involving  a  denial  merely  and  not  an  afiirmation. 
That  the  word  is  negative  in  form  is  a  fact  of  no  signifi- 
cance ;  so  are  inhuman  and  indecent.     If  the  word  infinite 


250  REASON. 

simply  set  fortli  the  fact  of  non-existence,  we  should  at 
once  lay  aside  the  article,  and  no  longer  speak  of  the  in- 
finite, any  more  than  of  the  nothing.  It  is  because  it  stands 
over  against  the  finite,  embracing  the  sum  of  possibilities 
and  powers  not  expressed  or  measured  therein,  that  we  call 
it  the  infinite.  If  its  negative  form  contained  the  true 
secret  of  the  word,  it  would  occasion  no  more  perplexity, 
would  contain  no  more  profound  depths,  than  does  the 
finite.  Nothing  is  as  intelligible  as  something,  the  termina- 
tion as  the  extension  of  physical  objects,  and  if  the  mind 
did  accept  the  word  as  a  mere  denial  of  anything  more,  it 
w^ould  accept  it  contentedly,  without  this  endless  bother 
and  perplexity,  this  groping  on  for  something  not  yet 
reached. 

It  is  said,  in  proof  of  this  negative  character  of  the 
notion,  that  it  is  inconceivable.  This  we  grant,  and  have 
given  the  reason  why  it  is  inconceivable.  It  is  not  an  ob- 
ject for  the  imagination.  Ko  more  is  the  notion  of  causa- 
tion, nor  of  liberty,  nor  of  right,  nor  of  beauty,  l^othing 
which  is  not  phenomenal,  nor  under  the  immediate  form 
which  phenomena  are  assuming,  is  a  subject  for  the  imag- 
ination. It  is  further  said.  The  infinite  is  not  thinkable. 
"  To  think  is  to  condition,"  is  to  throw  into  finite  relations, 
is  to  destroy  the  notion  of  the  infinite.  The  same  answer 
as  that  already  made  is  still  open.  The  list  of  our  faculties 
is  not  exhausted  when  we  have  marked  off  the  imacrination 
and  the  judgment.  It  is  possible  that  the  reason  was  given 
to  us  for  this  very  end,  to  reach  ideas  7iot  otherwise  present 
to  the  mind.  We  hardly  see  why  it  should  be  present,  or 
thought  to  be  present,  to  furnish  thinkable  and  conceivable 
objects,  that  is,  objects  arrived  at  by  other  faculties. 

In  what  sense,  however,  is  it  true  that  the  infinite  is  not 
thinkable  ?  It  is  true  in  this  sense  only,  that  it  can  not  be 
approaclied  by  explanations  grounded  on  resemblances,  that 


THE  INFINITE.  251 

it  can  not  be  made  tlie  subject  of  judgments,  at  least,  of 
those  wliich  limit  it  under  finite  analogies.  And  why 
should  we  expect  it  to  be  ?  Do  we  not  antecedently  see 
and  say,  that  this  j^rocess  must  be  destructive  to  the  very 
nature  of  the  notion  ?  Why  then  proceed  to  allege  the  fact 
against  it?  We  can  do  this  rationally  only  by  involving 
the  assertion,  that  the  judgment  and  imagination  are  our 
exclusive  faculties  of  knowledge ;  and  this  begs  the  ques- 
'tion  at  issue.  To  reject  the  reason  because  it  does  not  do 
the  very  superfluous  work  of  giving  an  idea  capable,  by  like- 
ness and  relation,  of  falling  into  the  list  of  previous  ideas, 
is  to  misunderstand  the  object  of  the  faculty,  or  to  assume 
that  its  existence  is  impossible.  We  might  as  well  object 
to  the  validity  of  our  knowledge  of  an  odor,  because  it  is 
not  thinkable,  or,  forsooth,  conceivable  under  color  or  sound. 
In  this  sense,  then,  we  admit  the  infinite  is  not  thinkable  ; 
but  all  thinking  is  not  under  limitations  and  conditions. 
Sometimes  it  is  quite  the  reverse.  To  say  that  God  is  infi- 
nite is  to  deny  conditions  of  Him.  To  say  that  The  Infinite 
is,  that  He  is  free,  that  He  is  holy,  is  not  to  condition,  to 
limit  God,  rather  the  reverse.  The  fact  that  we  cannot  go 
farther,  and  conceive  the  acts  in  and  by  which  His  liberty 
and  holiness  express  themselves,  except  under  a  finite  form, 
does  not  destroy  the  meaning  or  significance  of  the  antece- 
dent assertion,  it  merely  presents  another  case  of  a  familiar 
difficulty,  that  of  getting  from  one  province  of  knowledge  to 
another.  Different  tracts  of  cognition  do  not  lie  together, 
like  the  provinces  of  one  empire,  the  transition  one  of  move- 
ment only. 

Here  springs  up  another  modification  of  this  theory, 
that  of  Herbert  Spencer.  He  regards  the  notion  of  the  in- 
finite as  of  an  illusory  character,  shown  by  the  very  fact 
that  every  effort  to  give  proportion  and  definiteness  to  it, 
baffles  us,  and  results  in  driving  it  into  more  remote  re- 


252  REASON. 

gions.  We  admit  the  perplexity  which  a  portion  of  our 
faculties,  whose  action  we  are  most  familiar  with,  and  from 
Avhich  we  are  accustomed  to  receive  most  of  our  conclusions, 
experience  in  handling,  or  rather  in  striving  to  handle,  the 
infinite.  This  fact  presents  to  us  no  difficulty  ;  we  see  the 
reason  w^hy  these  faculties  are  not  adequate  to  the  labor  laid 
upon  them.  Indeed,  our  belief  in  the  infinite  would  be 
overthrown  by  a  successful  presentation  of  it,  either  by  the 
imagination  or  by  the  judgment  under  its  own  forms,  and 
is  established  by  this  very  failure  on  their  part.  The  objec- 
tion of  our  adversary  is  proof  w^ith  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  opposite  view,  that  the  notion  is 
wholly  illusory,  is  involved  in  difficulties  that  it  cannot 
evade.  How  can  Spencer  insist  that  any  presentation  of 
the  infinte  is  not  adequate,  when  he  has  no  notion  of  what 
the  infinite  is  ?  How  can  a  notion  be  shown  to  be  illusory, 
except  by  a  growing  intuition  ?  How  can  Hamilton  require 
us  to  accept  by  faith  that  which  is  unintelligible,  absolutely 
and  completely  so.  Here  are  real  contradictions.  There 
can  be  no  general  denial  of  the  applicability  of  any  and  all 
conceptions  of  the  infinite,  without  postulating  thereby 
some  notion  of  the  infinite  with  which  these  are  compared, 
and,  as  falling  short,  are  pronounced  wanting.  One  notion 
of  an  utterly  unknown  thing  is  as  good  and  as  adequate  as 
another.  Neither  can  faith  make  that  an  object  of  belief 
which  is  utterly  unknown  to  the  mind.  The  faith  of  Ham- 
ilton, and  the  vanishing  conception  of  Spencer,  are  both 
self-contradictory,  as  being  alone  able  to  arise  under  the 
furtive,  but  real  light  of  an  idea  present  and  ruling  in  the 
mind.  No  false  conception  of  the  Deity  can  be  set  aside 
except  by  one  w^hich  is  better,  or  is  deemed  better ;  no  faith 
can  be  expressed  except  toward  a  Being  thought  to  be. 
These  perplexities  find  no  removal.  To  escape,  therefore, 
difficulties  whose  reasou  is  forthcoming  by  difficulties  that 


'\  I  -  t 

THE  INFINITE.  C^i  "^2^3        ^1  y^ 

find  no  solntion,  is  to  forsake  the  light  for  darkne^i^  to      ^'^^ 
employ  exposition  with  a  loss  of  expository  power.  /<^  .  ^        rj 

]^or   are  formnlte   of   thought   which   are   inadequate/  V 
in  a  limited  sense  false,  unserviceable,  if  their  deficiencies 
are  clearly  seen  by  the  mind  that  uses  them.     The  expres- 
sions, infinite  power,  infinite  wisdom,  infinite  goodness,  con- 
tain as  statements  two   things:  the  qualities  indicated  by 
the  liovins,, power ^  wisdom,  goodness;  and  their  unlimited 
degree,  pointed  out  by  the  adjective,  ^/^/?^?V^.     Our  ideas 
of  the  first  may  gain   in   precision  and  clearness  without 
affecting  the  applicability  of   the  adjective  w^hich  sweeps 
away  their  limits.      We  may  inquire  experimentally  into 
the  nature  and  forms  of  power,  and  yet  well  understand  that 
these  precise  manifestations  are  swallowed  up  in,  inc hided 
under,  infinite  power.    We  thus  use  in  mathematics  the  first 
term  of  an  infinite  series  to  define  and  represent  the  remain- 
der ;  or  we  make  the  rule  for  the  area  of  an  inscribed  poly- 
gon that  of  the  enclosing  circle,  on  the  ground  of  the  con- 
stant approximation  of  the  one  surface  to  the  other  with 
each  increase  of  the  number  of  sides.     Yet  the  one  never  ab- 
solutely conforms  to  the  other.     The  intellectual  formula  for 
the  infinite  is,  This  and  more.     The  noun  gives  that  which 
is  to  be  expanded,  the  adjective,  the  law  of  its  expansion. 
The  this  of  the  formula  gives  room  for  inquiry  and  growth, 
the  more  cuts  us  off  from  regarding  a  part  as  the  whole. 
This  is  a  movement  of  thought  practically  simple  and  safe ; 
no  more  inexplicable,  no  more  dangerous  than  the  use  of 
suppositions  in  mathematics  which  reach  toward  the  exact 
truth  without  finally  covering  it,  which  put  one  thing  for 
another  on   the  ground  of  constant  approximation.     Con- 
ceptions are  habitually  employed  in  mathematics  which  are 
inconceivable.     We  regard  circles  as   perfect,  yet  the  de- 
scription of  a  perfect  circle  is  to  the  imagination  an  impos- 
sible task,  for  the  same  reason  that  it  is  to  the  senses.     Start 


254  REASON. 

witli  a  describing  point.  If  it  move  for  the  least  interval 
in  a  straight  line,  so  far  the  line  is  not  curved  ;  if  it  begins 
to  bend  before  it  has  traced  the  least  portion  of  a  line,  it  has 
nothins:  from  which  to  bend  or  curve.  It  must  besrin  to 
move  and  curve  at  once,  and  an  image  of  this  the  fancy  can 
not  form.  Even  a  point,  in  order  that  progress  may  be 
made  by  passing  through  it,  must  have  some  breadth,  and 
this  breadth,  if  it  is  to  give  an  initiatory  direction  from 
which  the  cur^e  is  to  depart,  must  be  straight.  In  analytic 
conception  we  resolve  the  descriptive  process  into  motion 
and  departure,  or  bending  from  that  motion;  we  can  not 
conceive  these  two  to  be  absolutely  and  constantly  sj^nchro- 
nous,  yet  without  this  the  circle  is  imperfect.  The  imag- 
ination follows  after  the  hand  and  eye,  and  as  these  are  not 
exact,  neither  is  it. 

§  14.  Having  presented  the  twelve  intuitive  ideas  which 
constitute  the  mind's  intellectual  furniture,  and  also  the 
grounds  of  proof  in  each  case,  we  propose  further  to  draw 
attention  to  some  considerations  which  belono:  to  all  of 
them,  establishing  their  character,  and  se2)arating  them 
from  generalizations.  Necessity  and  universality  have  been 
fixed  on  as  the  criteria  of  these  notions.  The  two  tests  are 
liable  to  be  mistaken  for  one,  and  are  so  under  a  certain 
rendering  of  them.  To  distinguish  these  from  each  other, 
we  should  understand  by  necessity,  that  certainty  of  con- 
viction which  attaches  in  all  minds  to  truths  purely  depend- 
ent on  intuitive  ideas.  Thus  there  are  in  the  definitions 
and  axioms  of  Geometry  many  secondary  intuitions,  refer- 
able to  the  primary  intuition,  space.  From  these  there 
spring  convictions,  in  the  certainty  with  which  the  mind 
receives  tliem,  wholly  unlike  those  dependent  on  experi- 
ence. That  two  straight  lines,  lying  in  the  same  plane,  and 
for  a  space  equally  distant,  will  remain  so  through  their 
entire  length,  is  an  assertion  which  the  mind  accepts  at 


CRITERIA.  255 

once,  as  a  necessary  trutli.  Nothing,  probably,  but  the  exi- 
gencies of  a  theory,  would  ever  lead  one,  with  Mill,  to  strive 
to  trace  a  conviction  like  this  to  experience.  Certain  it 
is,  that  no  mathematician  ever  thought  of  establishing  it 
by  induction.  Experimental  truth  never  imparts  such  im- 
mediate and  perfect  belief.  Of  a  like  nature  is  the  instant 
and  unavoidable  assurance  that  the  changes  taking  place 
before  us  have  a  cause.  Whenever  a  statement  is  solely 
dependent  on  a  regulative  idea,  it  becomes  a  necessary  or 
demonstrative  truth. 

Universality,  remaining  a  separate  criterion,  must  refer 
to  the  constant   presence  of  one   or   other  of  these   ideas 
in  every  judgment ;  to  the  fact  of  the  impossibility  of  dis- 
tinct, declared  thought  in  any  mind  without  them.     These 
universal   antecedents  of  thought  cannot   be  furnished  by 
thought  itself.     Thought  cannot  supply  its  own  conditions. 
The  universality  of  their  presence  in  each  act  of  mind  and 
in  all   minds  becomes  thus  a  proof  of  their  supersensual 
nature.     It  seems  to  us,  however,  that  it  is  a  careful  analy- 
sis of  the  processes  and  growtli  of  thought,  that  is  to  estab- 
lish each  idea  by  itself  ;  to  lay  open  its  transcendental  char 
acter,  as  in  the  case  of  the  infinite  and  liberty ;  or  its  neces- 
sary, antecedent  presence  to  a  certain  class  of  judgments, 
as  right  to  ethical  judgments,  consciousness  to  the  appre- 
hension of  mental  facts.     The  three  criteria,  the  necessity 
of  the  involved   truths,  the  universal  presence  of  one  or 
more  of  those  notions  in  all  judgments,  the  transcendental 
nature  of  the  conceptions  themselves,  are  not  applicable  all 
of  them  with  equal  clearness  to  each  of  the  twelve  ideas, 
and  must  l)e  applied  and  sustained  by  a  distinct  discussion 
of  the  mental  phenomena  involved. 

A  more  analytical  application  of  criteria  would  involve 
five  tests  of  intuitive  ideas,  (1)  immediateness,  (2)  necessity, 
(3)  universality,  (4)  identity,  and  (5)  transcendental  charac- 


256  REASON, 

ter.  These  are  not  distinct  tests,  but  different  applications 
of  the  same  test,  that  of  a  simple  idea,  disclosed  as  such 
in  intellectual  analysis.  A  simple  idea  must  come,  when 
it  comes,  abruptly,  must  carry  with  it  absolute  conviction, 
must  be  the  only  solvent  of  the  facts  it  expounds,  must  ever 
be  identical,  and  transcendental.  The  absolute  identity  of 
space,  of  time,  of  number  in  all  their  applications  is  note- 
worthy. Eesemblance,  though  it  may  lie  between  different 
things,  is  yet  ever  one  and  the  same  relation ;  right  marks 
the  one  fact  of  a  rational  law  of  action. 

§  15.  Another  vital  point  in  this  discussion  is  whether 
these  ideas  are  to  be  regarded  as  purely  subjective,  as  mere 
mental  forms  brought  to  the  object-matter  of  thought,  or 
whether  they  pertain  as  external,  necessary  forms  to  that 
matter  itself,  thus  possessing  an  independent  being.  The 
first  belief,  as  advanced  by  Kant,  that  intuitive  ideas  are 
the  mere  moulds  of  thought,  becomes  the  initiatory  term  of 
idealism.  It  is  as  contradictory  to  the  universal  opinions  of 
men  as  any  philosophy  well  can  be.  We  do  not  say,  that 
it  is  contradictory  to  consciousness,  for  it  is  not,  but  that  it 
sets  aside  as  wholly  invalid  and  without  foundation  the  uni- 
versal convictions  of  men,  thereby  casting  great  improba- 
bility on  its  own  conclusions. 

Cause  and  effect  constitute  the  notion  by  which  we 
more  es23ecially  establish  the  existence  of  the  external 
world.  N'ot  to  accept  as  just  and  safe  the  inference  to 
which  this  idea  of  the  mind  lead  us,  is  (1)  to  deny  the 
integrity  of  our  faculties,  and  to  introduce  a  fatal  scepti- 
cism to  which  no  after  limits  can  be  set.  It  is  a  fundamen- 
tal principle  of  sound  philosophy,  that  the  integrity  of 
no  faculty  can  be  denied,  nor  its  guarded,  normal  action  be 
set  aside.  If,  therefore,  we  recognize  the  universal  presence 
of  the  notion  of  cause  and  effect,  we  have  no  more  right 
to  treat  it  as  illusory,  than  we  have  thus  to  regard  vision 


REALITY  OF  IDEAS.  257 

or  memory.  Spencer  justly  says,  "  That  Space  and  Time 
are  'forms  of  sensibilities/  or  'subjective  conditions  of 
thougbt,'  that  have  no  objective  basis,  is  a  belief  as  repug- 
nant tu  common  sense  as  any  proposition  that  can  be  found." 
This  conclusion  is  reached  in  philosophy  by  rejecting 
without  reason  an  action  of  mind  universally  present.  We 
do  not,  indeed,  know  the  objective  world  in  perception, 
since  consciousness  is  a  condition  of  mental  phenomena 
only,  and  these  are  not  identical  with  the  physical  phe- 
nomena which  they  represent  or  accompany ;  but  we  do 
know  it  inferentially  under  causation.  The  action  of  the 
mind  herein,  as  clear  and  constant  and  universal  as  any 
action,  implies  a  power  or  faculty  whose  office  is  to  make 
these  disclosures. 

It  may  be  said,  that  this  view  is  as  open  as  the  oppos- 
ite to  the  criticism  of  disregarding  the  general  conviction, 
since  this  is  not  merely  that  we  know,  but  that  we  act- 
ually see  and  feel,  the  outside  world.  The  cases  presented 
by  the  two  theories  are  very  diverse.  The  one  rejects  en- 
tirely conclusions  univei*sally  accepted ;  the  other,  in  careful 
analysis  of  a  complex  operation,  refers  them  to  an  obscure 
element,  easily  and  frequently  overlooked.  The  popular 
mind  regards  sight,  touch,  as  simple  operations,  and  so 
ascribes  to  them  our  knowledge  of  the  external  world.  It 
is  deficient  in  analysis,  not  erroneous  in  its  reference.  Phi- 
losophy resolves  sensation  into  distinct  operations,  and  as- 
signs to  one  of  these,  that  of  causal  inference,  the  imme- 
diate proof  of  outside  existence.  It  is  to  be  claimed  that 
the  general  action  of  the  common  mind  should  be  regarded 
as  normal ;  it  is  not  to  be  claimed  that  analysis  may  not  go 
farther  than  ordinary  concrete  judgments. 

The  mind  soon  learns  (2)  to  distinguish  between  sensa- 
tions and  thoughts,  between  phenomena  which  come  and  go 
at  its  own  bidding,  and  those  which  are  entirely  independ- 


260  REASON. 

Kesemblance  is  a  specific  form  of  connection,  not  so  rela- 
tion. If  relation  expressed  any  intuition,  it  would  express 
a  large  bundle  of  them.  Moreover,  other  regulative  ideas 
involve  in  different  forms  this  idea  of  relation,  and  can  not 
maintain  their  integrity  without  it.  Kesemblance,  causa- 
tion, liberty  are  specific  relations ;  number,  time,  space,  in- 
clude many  relations.  Hence  we  must  regard  relation  as  a 
generalization,  whose  various  concrete  forms  are  found  in 
other  regulative  ideas,  and  the  combinations  of  phenomena 
under  them.  An  intuition  always  involves  the  essential 
unity  or  simplicity  of  the  idea,  as  that  of  time ;  a  generali- 
zation involves  the  variety  of  the  quality  or  relation,  like 
that  of  sweetness  or  of  usefulness. 

§  16.  An  effort  is  made  by  empirical  philosophy  with 
increasing  distinctness  to  strengthen  by  inheritance  the 
processes  by  which  it  supposes  the  general  mind  to  have 
readied  among  its  convictions  those  expressed  as  intuitive 
truths.  Especially  is  it  thought  that  the  necessity  that  is 
attributed  to  these  ideas  is  to  be  explained  in  this  way. 
Fundamental  convictions  once  reached  by  the  mind  are 
passed  over,  confirmed  and  enlarged  by  descent,  till  they 
assume  an  instinctive,  intuitive  character.  Spencer,  in  his 
Data  of  Ethics,  enforces  this  view  in  explanation  of  the 
riirht.  A  sense  of  obli£:ation  is  due  to  "preferences  and 
aversions  rendered  organic  by  inlieritance."  "  The  intui- 
tions of  a  moral  faculty  are  the  slowly  organized  results  of 
experience  received  by  the  race  while  living  in  presence 
of  the  conditions  of  the  highest  life." 

To  tins  opinion  there  are  plain  and  decisive  objections. 
(1)  Knowledge  proper,  clear  mental  conviction,  does  not 
pass  by  inheritance.  The  father  does  not  transmit  to  his 
son  his  skill  even,  much  less  his  mental  acquisitions. 
Knowledge  which  is  of  the  nature  of  training,  which  has 
a  large  pliysical  element,  and  is  closely  associated  with  in- 


INHERITANCE  ANl)  IDEAS.  2GI 

stinct,  may  in  a  measure  pass  by  descent;  as  a  modified 
form  of  nest-building  with  a  species  of  birds,  or  hunting 
qualities  in  a  dog.  The  more,  however,  that  acquisition 
partakes  of  the  nature  of  knowledge,  the  less  is  it  trans- 
missible. That  our  highest,  most  penetrative  insights,  like 
those  of  morals  or  mathematics,  should  owe  anything  di- 
rectly to  physical  inheritance,  is  quite  opposed  to  the  laws 
of  heredity. 

(2)  Such  descent  would  also  reverse  the  general  order 
of  progress.  Instincts  precede  knowledge,  rather  than 
knowledge  instincts.  Intelligence  bases  itself  upon  the 
organic,  instinctive  life ;  rather  than  itself  issues  in  these 
foundations.  Habit  or  skill,  though  somewhat  beyond 
thought,  is  yet  thoroughly  permeated  with  light,  is  some- 
thing quite  above  instinct.  The  field  which  instinct  prop- 
erly covers,  it  tends  to  occupy  to  the  exclusion  of  knowl- 
edge. The  region  of  instinctive  activity  is  a  dark,  opaque 
one.  It  is  the  deficiencies  of  instinct  which  knowledge  is 
called  on  to  supplement ;  while  instinct  anticipates  knowl- 
edge, and,  in  its  own  direction,  renders  it  unnecessary. 
The  true  order  of  growth  is  overlooked  by  this  theory. 
Organic  forces  and  instinct,  not  knowledge,  initiate  life  ; 
while  knowledge  holds  its  own  in  possession  more  and  more 
perfectly.  An  insight  that  should  lapse  into  an  instinct 
would  tend  to  deaden  the  intellect;  but  nowhere  is  our 
knowledge  so  luminous,  so  complete,  as  in  our  intuitions. 
This  knowledge  is  at  the  very  farthest  remove  from  a  blind, 
half- organic  under-current.  Its  certainty  it  wins  not  from 
instinct  or  inheritance,  but  from  insight. 

The  constructive  order  of  the  world  is  this:  purely 
physical  forces  support  and  minister  to  organic  forces; 
organic  forces  expand  into  and  nourish  instinctive  forces ; 
these  in  turn  make  way  for  associative  processes;  while 
associative  processes  prepare  the  ground  for  and  find  their 


262  REASON. 

interpretation  in  rational  activity.  By  instinct  we  mean 
subtile  constitutional  connections,  through  which  actions, 
having  the  form  of  intelligence,  are  automatically  accom- 
plished. It  is  simj^ly  an  extension,  as  in  the  spinning  of 
the  spider,  of  organic  stimuli.  '  By  association  we  mean, 
the  union  of  facts  of  experience  in  quasi  judgments  by 
memory."^  Each  higher  stage  in  this  series  will  react  on 
and  modify  that  below  it,  but  the  fundamental  dej)endence 
is  the  one  indicated.  Any  other  relation  w^ould  make  the 
higher  endowment  the  preparation  for  the  lower  one,  and 
its  condition  in  development.  Instances  may  easily  be 
given  in  w^hich  the  later  gift  modifies  the  earlier  one  ;  but 
this  is  quite  a  subordinate  fact  that  must  itself  find  explana- 
tion in  the  previous  relation  here  presented. 

Intelligence  will  work  its  way  in  a  limited  degree  into 
instinct,  and  secure  transmission  by  descent ;  but  this  w^ill 
take  place  only  in  lower  forms  of  life,  and  is  a  w^holly  in- 
sufficient theory  of  interpretation  when  aj)plied  to  man's 
highest  powders,  powers  that  are  not  instinctive  but  intui- 
tive. These  must  be  accepted  in  their  supreme  quality, 
and  their  action  upward  and  downw^ard  sought  out. 

Intelligence,  in  its  higher  forms,  holds  beneath  it  a 
large  constitutional  automatic  region  which  it  can  penetrate 
as  voluntary  powder,  and  ultimately  possess  and  control  as 
habit.  Instinct  and  habit  are  allied  to  each  other  in  form, 
but  quite  distinct  in  origin  and  ofiice.  Instinct  is  an  ex- 
pansion from  below  of  automatic  action  ;  habit  is  the  higher 
life  finding  its  way  into  the  lower. 

(3)  Moreover,  the  first  knowledge,  on  w^hicli  inheritance 
is  made  to  rest,  remains  to  be  explained,  and  adequately 
explained  leaves  no  room  for  inheritance  to  add  anything. 
Inheritance  can  do  nothing  unless  there  is  something  to  in- 
herit.    Whence  comes  that  incipient  perception  of  right,  or 

*  For  a  farther  discussion  see  Growtli  and  Grades  of  Intelligence. 


GROUPING  OF  IDEAS.  203 

those  first  convictions  of  necessary  truths,  which  have  been 
confirmed  by  descent  ?  We  are  to  remember  that  descent 
obscures  rather  than  makes  clear  the  rational  element,  these 
earlier  insights,  therefore,  must  have  been  as  bright  as  the 
morning  light,  and  are  still  to  be  explained. 

(4)  Farther,  these  intuitions  are  now  with  us  as  insights, 
not  as  instincts.  They  express  mental  powers,  not  organic 
processes.  The  truths  of  morals,  the  axioms  of  mathemat- 
ics, indicate  the  clearest  and  most  decided  action  of  the  in- 
tellect. It  is  strange  that  these  latest  convictions  should  be 
likened  to  the  organic  impulse  with  which  a  bee  builds  its 

comb. 

(5)  These  higher  truths  also,  as  those  of  mathematics, 
have  not  been  with  the  race  to  be  confirmed  by  descent. 
They  have  come  late  and  suddenly,  and  have  come  with 

full  force. 

(6)  Nor  does  uniform,  empirical  truth  gather  by  inheri- 
tance this  sense  of  necessity.  The  world  would  still  be 
perfectly  willing  to  find  a  white  crow. 

§  17.  The  twelve  ideas  now  presented  are  capable  of 
being  grouped  in  various  ways.  Space  and  consciousness 
are  the  two  diverse  and  complementary  fields  in  which  all 
phenomena  occur.  The  higher  plane  has,  as  ideas  peculiar 
to  itself,  consciousness,  spontaneity,  truth,  right.  The  only 
ideas  peculiar  to  physical  events  are  space,  and  cause  and 
effect.  The  infinite,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  idea  that 
keeps  aloof  from  the  phenomenal,  comes  in  only  to  compre- 
hend the  finite,  and,  in  its  personal  form,  to  give  the  inves- 
tigations of  the  mind  a  final  goal,— one  from  which  they 
may  start,  and  to  which  they  may  return. 

Existence  finds  its  chief  significance  in  its  resemblances ; 
space,  in  its  numerical  relations;  time,  in  the  causal  se- 
quence of  events.  The  first  couplet  gives  us  the  facts  of 
being,  and  their  character;  the  second,  the  most  abstract 


264  REASON, 

relations  of  things  in  co-existence ;  the  third,  their  relations 
in  sequence.  Cause  expresses  the  law  of  evolution  in  the 
physical  world;  spontaneity,  that  of  the  spiritual  world. 
Forces  are  installed  in  distinct  measure  and  form  in  sj^ace, 
their  initiation  is  an  act  of  mind.  Liberty  in  actual  choice 
forecloses  liberty,  and  henceforward  realized  force  moves 
with  a  necessary  imj^ulse  to  its  goal. 

These  ideas  admit  of  a  collective  grouping  in  reference 
to  the  method  in  which  they  cover  all  phenomena. 

Existence. 
Number. 
Resemblance. 
Space.  ]  r  Consciousness. 

I  Time  i  Spontaneity. 

f  -^"''^-  I  Truth. 

Causation.         J  |^  Right. 

Beauty. 
The  Infinite. 

We  start  with  existence  as  the  fundamental  affirmation 
in  connection  with  all  facts.  This  is  followed  by  a  recogni- 
tion of  their  plurality,  and  this — we  are  speaking  of  logical 
order — by  their  variety.  Plurality  and  variety,  number  and 
resemblance,  tend  at  once  to  emphasize  each  other,  though 
the  latter,  in  its  discrimination,  is  an  advance  on  the  for- 
mer. These  three  ideas  are  common  to  all  phenomena, 
whether  of  matter  or  of  mind.  At  this  point  the  stream  of 
events  divides,  though  its  facts  flow  forward  in  each  branch 
alike  under  the  idea  of  time.  Physical  events,  arising  in 
space,  and  impelled  by  forces,  take  up  the  notion  of  causa- 
tion. Mental  plienomena  show  themselves  in  conscious- 
ness, and  are  linked,  so  far  as  they  are  purely  mental  facts, 
by  spontaneity.  The  law  of  pure  mental  action  is  truth. 
This  connection  constitutes  the  logical  coherence  of  thought. 
But  rational  conduct  includes  liberty,  and  liberty  as  choice 


ALL  POSSIBLE  IDEAS.  265 

necessarily  involves  an  alternative,  a  law  from  without, 
from  above,  to  be  obeyed  or  disobeyed.  This  law  is  given 
in  the  intuition  of  right.  To  this  intuition  the  mind  adds 
that  of  beauty,  lying  in  somewhat  the  same  direction,  and 
expressing  a  certain  supreme  recognition  of,  and  pleasure 
in,  the  thing  that  is  aptly  done. 

Beauty  embraces  two  terms,  form  and  spirit,  and  is 
found  in  the  perfect  union  of  the  two.  It  thus  arises  at 
the  junction  of  physical  and  intellectual  facts  in  perfect 
expression.  From  the  flow  of  either  series  of  events  there 
comes  the  suggestion  of  the  infinite,  as  the  all-encompassing 
thought.  As  causation  changes  not,  neither  waxes  nor 
wanes,  while  liberty  alone  can  make  a  beginning  and  shape 
events  to  a  purpose,  the  idea  of  the  infinite  united  with 
that  of  personality  gives  to  us  the  Infinite,  the  completely 
comprehensive  Being,  from  whom  all  things  flow  and  to 
whom  they  return.  Efiicient  causation  backward  brings 
events  to  rest  in  God ;  final  causation  forward  does  the 
same  thing,  and  so  the  force  and  thought  of  God  interlace 
all  things. 

§  18.  We  have  no  such  complete  oversight  of  the  con- 
ditions of  human  knowledge  as  to  be  able  to  say,  that  the 
formative  ideas  now  offered  exhaust  all  its  relations.  We 
can  only  say,  that  no  others  seem  to  be  needed,  save  these 
and  those  involved  in  them  ;  and  that  the  general  corres- 
pondence of  these  twelve  ideas  with  the  directions  of  human 
thought  is  very  plain.  A  complete  system  of  categories 
outlines  all  forms  of  human  knowledge,  and  gives  the  sub- 
phenomenal  links  of  thought  which  bind  these  forms  to- 
gether. 

In  testing  the  sufficiency  of  such  a  system,  we  must  re- 
member tliat  these  ideas,  in  their  application,  give  rise  to 
many  subordinate  ones  ;  as  time  includes  past,  present  and 
future  ;  and  space,  here,  there ;  above,  below,  in  short  all 


^QQ  REASON. 

the  words  of  relation  under  this  pregnant  notion.  Under 
existence  are  shaped  some 'of  the  primary  axioms  of  logic  ; 
A  is  A,  A  is  not  not- A,  A  is  or  is  not.  In  the  develop- 
ment of  resmblance,  we  meet  with  agreement,  disagreement, 
antithesis  ;  and  under  number  with  unity,  plurality,  totality 
equality.  In  connection  with  causation  and  time,  we  have 
succession,  continuity,  identity,  action  and  reaction.  Iden- 
tity here  means  the  oneness  of  a  substance  or  a  form  with 
itself. 

Identity,  as  the  complete  correspondence  of  a  thought 
with  a  thought,  arises  under  resemblance  and  spontaneity. 
Under  space  we  have  quantity,  and  under  causation  and 
space  we  have  the  subordinate  notions  of  substance,  actual- 
ity, necessity,  fate  ;  and  under  consciousness  and  spontan- 
eity, possibility,  liberty,  chance— as  an  event  not  ordered 
in  reference  to  an  end.  Under  truth,  beauty  and  right,  ap- 
pear the  secondary  ideas  of  the  false,  the  imperfect,  the 
wrong ;  and  on  the  other  side,  the  perfect.  With  the  in- 
finite arises  its  correlative,  the  finite.  AYe  do  not  strive  to 
give  all  these  subordinate  forms,  but  simply  to  indicate  a 
few  of  them  and  their  relation  to  primary  ideas. 

We  subjoin  the  categories  of  Kant : 

(  Unity, 
Quantity.     }  Plurality, 
(  Totality. 

i  Afiirmation — agreement. 
Quality.        •<  Negation — disagreement. 

(  Limitation — partial  agreement. 

i  Substance — internal  relation. 
Relation.      I  Causality — dependence. 

(  Reci2:)rocity — external  relation. 

(  Possibility, 
Modality.      I  Actuality, 
(  Necessity. 

These  are  chiefly   subordinate  forms  of  primary  ideas, 


ENUMERATION  OF  IDEAS.  267 

and  by  no  means  exliaust  the  list.  They  neglect  the  pri- 
mary categories,  and  even  include,  as  in  quality,  a  partial 
generalization  under  the  senses.  In  relation  and  modality, 
we  have  generalizations  of  dependencies  involved  in  pri- 
mary ideas.  These  categories  have  therefore  but  little 
claim  to  attention  from  a  psychological  point  of  view,  being 
constructed  to  express  the  logical  forms  of  judgments  rather 
than  the  ultimate  ideas  under  which  they  proceed. 


CHAPTER  y. 

The  Dynamics  of  the  Intellect. 

§  1.  We  are  to  speak  in  tins  chapter  of  the  growth  and 
interaction  of  the  intellectual  powers,  of  the  dynamic  states 
of  the  mind.  The  Intuiti^^e  Philosophy  has  been  censured, 
not  without  reason,  by  the  Sensualistic  School  for  contem- 
plating the  mind  only  in  its  maturity,  with  no  sufficient  al- 
lowance for  the  results  of  previous  conditions  upon  it, — 
for  the  effects  of  growth.  This  criticism  we  so  far  respect 
as  to  find  a  conspicuous  place  for  truths  which  have  been 
chiefly  urged  by  such  men  as  Spencer  and  Bain,  always  shap- 
ing them,  however,  to  a  new  position  and  purpose.  We 
are  not  prepared  to  admit  any  hereditary  influences  which 
vary  the  fundamental  conditions  of  the  problem  of  our  in- 
tellectual nature.  The  varieties  of  character,  the  growth  of 
national  and  race  distinctions.  And  explanation  here  ;  but  no 
sufficient  proof  has  yet  been  given  to  establish,  or  even  to 
render  probable,  the  transformation  of  species  by  the  accu- 
mulated changes  of  descent,  with  no  increments  of  power. 
The  past  is  not  equivalent  to  the  present.  We  must  still 
regard  each  normal  individual  as  the  type  of  the  race  in  its 
essential  features ;  nor  are  we  ready  to  look  upon  any  one 
of  these  faculties  as  the  product  of  simply  external  condi- 
tions, the  sum  of  growing,  hereditary  tendencies. 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  we  contrast  the  infant  with 
the  mature  man,  it  must,  we  think,  be  admitted  that  the 
complete  activity  of  the  latter,  is  very  different  from  the 
tentative,  partial  movement  of  the  former.     It  is  to  this  de- 


GROWTH  OF  MIND.  2G9 

velopment  of  intellectual  power  that  we  first  direct  atten- 
tion. (1)  The  earliest  distinct  mental  phenomena  are  doubt- 
less those  of  sensation,  are  physical  feelings.  These  should 
be  conceived  as  perfectly  pure,  that  is  as  simple  states  or 
activities  of  mind — for  our  present  purposes  there  is  no  dif- 
ference between  a  state  and  an  activity  of  mind  ;  both  are 
activities.  These  first  sensations  may  be  of  one  kind  or  of 
another,  but  are  more  likely  to  enter  through  the  general 
sensational  system  than  through  a  specific  sense,  to  be  sen- 
sations of  pain,  local  or  pervasive,  demanding  relief,  and 
rising  with  acute,  jagged  certainty  into  the  light  of  con- 
sciousness. It  matters  not  what  are  the  first  sensations,  since 
it  is  a  chanffinff  series  of  sensations  that  invites  attention. 
These  are  each  simple,  single,  mental  states  known  in  the 
very  fact  of  their  existence  as  sensibilities.  Separately,  they 
are  capable  of  no  analysis,  no  division  whatever.  A  pain,  a 
taste  are  as  individual  as  any  objects  of  contemplation  can 
be.  To  suppose  these  to  reveal  directly  an  external  object, 
would  be  to  suppose  that  the  phenomena  of  matter  become 
the  phenomena  of  mind,  and  are  known  directly  as  such. 
We  can  only  allow,  then,  that  sensations  disclose  them- 
selves -directly  in  consciousness,  all  beyond  this  is  inferential. 
At  this  stage  of  growth,  possessed  of  sensations  merely,  the 
infant  is  as  ignorant  of  his  own  physical  organs  as  of  the 
world  about  him.  He  absolutely  knows  nothing  save  the 
varying  pains  and  pleasures  that  fiit  through  that  unlocated 
region  called  consciousness,  itself  more  often  hidden  under 
the  cloud  of  dreams  than  oj^en  to  the  ncAV  light  of  waking 
perceptions.  A  tongue,  a  hand,  an  eye,  a  foot,  are  wholly 
beyond  the  scope  of  his  knowledge ;  nothing  physical,  ex- 
ternal to  consciousness,  is  as  yet  recognized.  In  adult  years 
we  so  instantly  locate  each  sensation,  that  it  seems  to  us  that 
it  itself  declares  its  position.  We  are  doubtless  to  conceive 
of  the  mind  as  using  the  entire  body,  as  making  it  directly 


270  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT.      ' 

and  immediately  instrumental  in  reaching  and  influencing 
the  external  world.  The  brain  is  the  chief  seat  of  power, 
but  is  no  more  the  mind,  is  no  more  a  condition  of  its  ac- 
tivity, than  the  nervous  system  generally,  spreading  through 
and  through  the  body,  and  perfectly  possessing  it.  But  this 
instrument  of  the  mind  is  not  directly  known  to  it.  The 
mind  uses  the  body  and  controls  it  unconsciously,  in  the 
dark,  not  in  the  light.  Its  shape,  form,  and  members  even, 
are  all  to  be  learned  by  experience.  We  may  hesitate  at 
first  to  admit  this,  but  a  little  thonght  will  com]3el  the 
concession. 

If  the  mind  in  sensation  itself  knows  and  locates  the  in- 
struments of  those  sensations,  then  ought  the  mind  to  know 
its  internal  organs  as  well  as  its  external  ones.  These  are 
often  independent  sources  of  pain,  and  in  the  nervous  sys- 
tem are  as  indispensable  means  to  perception  as  the  special 
senses ;  yet  the  existence  of  the  stomach,  the  brain,  the 
liver,  the  interior  formation  of  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  ner- 
vous fibres  and  their  ramifications,  have  all  to  be  learned, 
must  all  be  made  objects  of  examination,  and  declare  noth- 
ing to  us  directly  of  their  own  existence.  These  do  not 
differ  as  regards  our  original  knowledge  of  them  from  the 
tongue,  the  finger-ends,  except  in  the  fact  that  we  neces- 
sarily learn  the  existence  and  form  of  the  one  set  of  organs 
much  earlier  than  we  do  of  the  other. 

"We  return  to  the  consideration  of  our  first  intellectual 
states — the  flow  of  simple,  subjective,  nnlocalized  sensa- 
tions. (2)  General  sensations  would  be  quickl^^  accom- 
panied by  more  special  sensations,  arising  from  appetites 
and  from  special  senses.  That  special  sensations  follow 
general  sensations  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that  those  senses 
which  are  peculiarly  full  in  their  primitive  data,  as  the  eye 
and  the  ear,  are  called  latest  into  action ;  and  also  from  the 
fact,  that  these  senses  in  the  earlier  forms  of  animal  life 


ORO  WTII  OF  MIND.  271 

are  fitted  to  give  only  general  distinctions.  Appetite,  taste, 
touch  concur  in  the  first  wakeful  experiences  of  the  infant, 
and  these  are  organically  united  as  instinctive  stimuli  in 
the  act  of  suckling.  The  coming  reason  finds  its  first  con- 
scious experiences  in  this  border  ground  of  appetite  and  in- 
stinct— in  sensations  still  obscure  and  mainlv  automatic  in 
their  action.  It  has  been  thought  tliat  the  elephant  owes 
much  of  his  intelligence  to  the  delicacy  of  touch  in  his 
trunk,  and  to  its  extended  mobility.  These  facts  certainly 
give  him  an  unusual  command  of  the  conditions  of  in- 
quiry. 

(y)  General  and  special  sensations  would  immediately 
give  rise  to  voluntary  action  in  their  gratification.  The 
first  conditions  of  life  are  met  by  automatic  connections, 
but  the  rational  consciousness  begins  at  once  to  build  its 
own  constructions  on  these  foundations.  The  limited  num- 
ber of  sensations  are  at  first  distinguished  as  pleasurable  and 
painful,  and  each  class  is  accompanied  by  more  or  less  of 
spontaneous  muscular  effort,  gradually  changing  into  vol- 
untary effort,  fitted  to  retain  the  enjoyment  or  escape  the 
pain.  The  pleasures  of  touch  and  taste  are  especially  con- 
centrated on  the  tongue,  and  the  infant  first  spontaneously 
and  then  more  consciously  seeks  the  breast  in  gratification 
of  its  sensibilities.  Later,  the  feeling  awakens  in  the  hands, 
and  the  child  is  not  at  ease  till  these  are  laid  on  the  mother. 
In  these  earliest,  tangible  sources  of  pleasure,  secured  and 
maintained  by  muscular  effort,  the  infant  rests ;  wanting 
these  it  worries,  and  moves  inquiringly  till  they  are  re- 
gained. Later,  other  forms  of  sensation  succeed  ;  the  hand 
grasps  more  definitely,  and  seeks  a  greater  variety  of  ob- 
jects ;  the  ear  is  cheered  by  the  voice  of  the  parent ;  the 
eye  is  delighted  with  the  brightness  of  the  lamp-light,  or 
with  the  sun-light.  In  these  last  cases,  it  is  evidently  more 
as  sensations  than  as  perceptions,  more  as  organic  impres- 


272  DYNAMICS  OF  TEE  INTELLECT. 

sions,  than  as  distinct  cognitions,  that  the  new  objects  find 
admission  and  confer  pleasure.  Slowly  the  eye  learns  to 
separate  objects  just  at  hand,  and  distinctly  discern  them, 
though  possessed  of  no  peculiar  brilliancy.  It  recognizes 
the  face  of  the  mother,  and  at  length  follows,  even  into  the 
distance,  her  retreating  form.  Still,  its  range,  for  a  consid- 
erable period,  seems  limited,  scarcely  passing  the  verge  of 
the  cradle. 

(4)  The  mind  is  now  ready  to  harmonize  in  action  its 
different  senses.  Taste  and  touch  are  united,  and  each  ob- 
ject that  can  be  handled  is  subjected  to  the  double  test. 
The  hand  also  follows  vision,  and  strives  to  lay  hold  of  each 
new  thing.  The  ear  learns  to  direct  the  eye,  and  the  dis- 
tant voice  wins  the  attention  of  both  organs.  The  process 
of  acquisition  goes  on  till  a  definite  mastery  of  each  mem- 
ber is  secured,  its  peculiar  impressions  discriminated,  and 
the  visible  world  unfolded  and  rolled  out  in  its  marvellous 
complexity  of  forms  and  relations. 

This  movement,  from  the  beginning,  takes  place  under 
an  objective  form.  The  sensation  is  not  enjoyed  subject- 
ively, dreamily ;  but  objectively,  really.  The  pleasures  are 
attached  at  once  to  an  object  and  a  state ;  thus  also  the 
pains.  The  spontaneous,  muscular  effort  with  which  they 
are  connected  facilitates  this  external  form  of  experience, 
by  attaching  enjoyment  to  objects  independent  of  the  senses 
themselves,  to  things  momentarily  lost  and  momentarily  re- 
gained. Distinct,  muscular  exertion  aids  in  distinguishing 
different  states,  in  marking  their  attainment,  maintenance, 
and  loss. 

The  objective  character  of  early  experience  is  also 
heightened  by  the  degree  in  which  it  is  composed  of  sen- 
sations— often  the  definite  rugged  sensations  of  pain — as 
opposed  to  perceptions,  and  later,  of  external,  as  contrasted 
with  reflective  pleasures.     Language  presents  the  mind  as 


GROWTH  OF  MIND.  273 

especially  passive  and  receptive  in  feeling  ;  and  attributes 
the  efficiency  to  the  exterior  occasion  of  the  emotions. 
This  we  observe  also  in  uncultivated,  immature  persons. 
Their  attention  is  particularly  directed  to  the  objects  and 
sources  of  pleasure.  Their  appetites  and  passions  lead 
them  inevitably  to  this  objective  life,  to  this  hanging  upon 
the  external  conditions  of  pleasure,  this  clinging  to  the 
bosom  of  nature.  The  notion  of  cause  and  effect — its  own 
momentary  enjoyments  the  effect — attaches  the  mind,  as 
yet  little  more  than  a  bundle  of  sensations,  strongly  and  at 
once  to  the  external  world.  Slowly  it  unfolds  the  facts  of 
this  world,  the  avenues  and  dependencies  of  its  own  pleas- 
ures, its  senses  and  the  things  which  minister  to  them.  The 
internal  rather  than  the  external  is  overlooked.  The  senses 
are  separated  from  the  objects  which  affect  them,  but  the 
attention  of  the  mind  is  much  later  referred  to  itself,  as 
truly  subjective  to  them  ah 

If  we  were  to  neglect  the  objective  character  of  exper- 
ience from  the  outset ;  if  we  should  suppose  the  mind  for 
a  time  floating  from  sensation  to  sensation  on  the  inner, 
tidal  movement  of  its  own  phenomena,  we  should  find  in- 
creasing difficulty  in  making  the  transition,  and  in  justify- 
ing it  when  we  had  made  it.  We  are  rather  to  reo^ard  the 
mind  as  at  once  borne  outward  toward  the  sources  of  its 
enjoyments,  and  as  realizing  these  in  and  by  their  causes. 
"We  should  likewise  observe  the  great  aid  which  muscular 
effort  gives  in  interpreting  and  locating  sensations.  By 
this  means  the  child  at  first  automatically,  later  voluntarily, 
renews  and  discontinues  its  physical  impressions,  till  the 
mind  has  matured  its  knowledge  of  them,  their  diversities 
and  conditions.  The  relations  of  space  are  especially  de- 
pendent on  movement  for  their  determination.  The  eye 
and  the  hand  work  with  each  other  in  exploring  surround- 
ing bodies  and  intervening  spaces,  while  a  series  of  sensa- 


274  JDTNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

tions  record  the  motions  of  the  arms  and  fingers.  By  move- 
ment we  repeat  at  pleasure  the  problems  offered  by  exten- 
sion, and  secure  varying  conditions  for  their  solution. 

In  this  growth  of  the  mind  into  the  possession  and 
handling  of  its  instruments,  into  the  rudiments  of  experi- 
mental knowledge,  the  appropriate  regulative  ideas  are 
present  doing  their  work,  though  of  course  they  are  unrec- 
ognized by  the  mind,  as  is  the  fact  of  sensation  itself  in 
the  first  feelings,  or  the  fact  of  judgment  in  the  early  per- 
ceptions of  likeness.  It  is  the  substance  of  experience,  not 
its  forms,  the  facts  of  experience,  not  its  conditions,  that 
occupy  the  attention.  Experience  is  not  for  this  reason 
destitute  of  form,  or  without  conditions.  The  first  when 
and  where,  though  as  yet  unanalyzed,  involve  time  and 
space,  as  certainly  as  the  last. 

(5)  One  of  the  great  labors  of  childhood  is  ready  to 
follow  the  steps  now  taken,  the  conversion  of  sensations 
into  perceptions  by  virtue  of  associative  judgments.  This 
change  takes  place  chiefly  in  seeing  and  hearing,  though  the 
movement  reaches  the  other  senses  somewhat,  and,  in  the 
absence  of  the  higher  senses,  may  thoroughly  transform 
them.  This  remarkable  conversion  takes  place  so  early  in 
life  and  so  rapidly  that  we  may  readily  overlook  its-  extent. 
The  ear  and  the  eye,  though  more  frequently  indicating  in- 
stantly the  directions  and  relations  of  objects,  obscuring  the 
judgments  of  the  mind  by  their  rapidity,  are  sometimes  so 
slow  and  uncertain  in  their  decisions  as  to  make  the  presence 
of  their  reflective  processes  conspicuous.  We  frequently 
have  occasion  to  listen  attentively  in  order  to  judge  of  the 
character  and  distance  and  nature  of  an  unfamiliar  sound. 
An  object  seen  across  the  water  deceives  us,  is  farther 
•off  than  we  think  it  to  be.  Our  estimates  of  the  height 
of  a  cloud  are  very  uncertain. ;  or  of  the  size  of  unfamiliar 
-objects,  especially  when  our  ordinary  standards  of  measure- 


GROWTH  OF  MIND.  ^^^ 

ments  are  taken  from  us,  and  the  proportions,  as  of  a  catlie- 
dral,  are  grander  than  those  to  which  we  are  accustomed. 
The  incomplete  state  in  which  the  work  still  remains  here 
reveals  the  fact,  that  size,  form,  direction,  are  to  the  eye 
solely  matters  of  judgment. 

The  eye  may  also  be  deceived.  The  fans  of  a  wind- 
mill may  seem  to  revolve  in  a  direction  opposite  to  the  real 
one.  We  explain  this  as  an  error  of  the  accompanying 
judgments,  induced  by  an  unfavorable  position.  The  same 
form  of  error  occasionally  occurs  in  touch.  The  fingers 
being  crossed,  and  the  hand  placed  behind  its  possessor,  he 
is  often  not  able  to  decide  which  one  has  been  touched. 
The  ordinary  accuracy  of  judgment  is  lost  on  account  of 
the  unusual  conditions  under  which  it  is  exercised.  The 
vast  majority  of  our  localizing  power  being  manifestly  of 
an  acquired  and  experimental  character,  we  are  inductively 
led  to  the  conclusion,  that  all  of  it  is  of  this  nature  ;  and  the 
more  so  when  we  find  that  the  most  steadfast  and  stub- 
born conclusions  are  occasionally  at  fault,  when  formed  un- 
der changed  conditions  of  judgment.  The  patient  whose 
limb  was  to  be  removed,  returning  to  a  state  of  conscious- 
ness, can  only  determine  by  observation,  whether  it  has 
been  amputated.  Indeed  his  sensations  may  lead  him, 
through  the  accustomed  reference  of  pain  to  the  accustomed 
quarters,  to  feel  the  limb  in  its  place,  and  this  though  weeks 
may  have  elapsed  since  it  was  lopped  from  the  body. 

Touch  is  the  sense  whose  localizing  power  is  regarded 
as  the  most  immediate,  while  its  acquisition  of  this  facility 
is  most  concealed  from  us  by  remoteness  of  time.  The  de- 
pendence of  this  sense,  in  common  with  others,  on  experi- 
ence for  its  localizing  power,  is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  on  the 
finger-ends,  where  it  exists  most  perfectly  and  in  most  con- 
stant use,  we  distinguish  much  more  completely  and  ac- 
curately than   on  other  parts  of   the  body.     A  considera- 


276  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

ble  space  must  intervene  between  two  points  applied  simul- 
taneously to  tlie  person  elsewhere,  before  we  can  discern 
tliem  as  two ;  tliey  may  approach  very  closely,  and  yet  be 
separated  in  sensation  by  the  fingers.  This  sense  can,  by 
special  cultivation,  when  other  senses  are  wanting,  be  made 
so  much  more  perfect  than  it  now  is,  be  so  filled  and 
rounded  out  with  instantaneous  judgments,  as  to  have  but 
a  slight  resemblance  to  its  former  self.  The  raised  letters 
of  the  blind  are  distinguished  by  most  persons  slowly  and 
with  the  utmost  difliculty,  w^hile  the  trained  touch  glides 
rapidl}^  along  them,  almost  as  the  visual  nerve  moves  over 
the  printed  page.  The  blind  in  some  instances  acquire  a 
power  and  precision  of  touch  inexplicable  to  us,  and  are 
enabled  to  carry  on  employments,  like  engineering  and  war- 
fare, from  which  we  should  regard  them  as  entirely  ex- 
cluded. Ziska  was  among  the  more  distinguished  of  gen- 
erals. When  the  entire  mind  is  directed  to  this  avenue  of 
communication  with  the  external  world,  it  brings  it  by  in- 
cluded judgments  to  an  unthought  of  perfection,  and  widens 
it  into  a  wonderful  inlet  of  information. 

The  most  remarkable  development  of  this  low^er  sense 
is  offered  in  the  case  of  Laura  Bridgman.  "  In  1837  a  deli- 
cate, light-haired  girl,  nearly  eight  years  old,  who  at  the 
age  of  tw^enty-six  months  had  lost  sight,  hearing,  and  to  a 
great  extent  the  senses  of  smell  and  taste,  from  an  attack  of 
scarlet  fever,  was  brought  from  her  home  in  New  Hamp- 
shire to  the  Perkins  Institution  for  the  Blind,  in  Boston."^ 
A  mind  of  great  vigor  was  here  cut  off  almost  wholly  from 
the  external  world,  by  walls  of  separation  unpierced  by  the 
ordinar}^  senses.  In  spite  of  these  difficulties,  her  powers 
were  aAvakened  to  complete  activity,  and  put  in  compara- 
tively full  communication  with  the  outside  world  by  means 
of  the  one  remaining  sense  of  touch.     Nothing  could  better 

*  See  an  article  on  Mind,  No.  14. 


OROWTH  OF  MIND.  2T7 

disclose  the  relative  independence  of  the  mind  of  any  par- 
ticular sense,  its  own  large  contributions  to  every  sense,  and 
the  very  secondary  weight  in  intellectual  development  of 
simply  organic  and  hereditary  forces,  than  the  very  won- 
derful triumph,  on  the  one  side,  of  instruction,  and,  on  the 
other,  of  native  power.  The  identification  of  physical  and 
intellectual  unfolding  incident  to  normal  growth  quite  dis- 
appears, and  we  find  the  mind  reaching  its  goal  by  means 
peculiar  to  itself. 

(6)  In  connection  with  this  development  of  perception, 
— a  work  which  is  never  quite  finished — those  acquirements 
are  made  which  combine  in  harmonious  exertion  mental 
and  muscular  action.     Here  belong  graceful  and  dexterous 
movement,  all  forms  of  skill  and  art,  and  above  all  the 
learning  of  language.     The  perfect  mastery  in  articulation 
of  any  speech  is  so  great   an  attainment,  that  it  is   very 
rarely  successfully  accomplished   but  once  in   life.      The 
thorough  acquisition   of  a  foreign   tongue   in  middle   and 
later  life  is  deemed  impossible.     The  following  of  the  let- 
ters on  the  printed  page  with  the  eye,  and  the  easy,  instant 
and  exact  utterance  of  them  with  the  rapid  and  complex 
play  of  the  muscles  involved,  is,  indeed,  the  acme  of  accom- 
plishment in  a  combined  mastery  of  body  and  mind.     This 
Work,  which  the  child  does   unconsciously,   the   laborious 
efforts  of  later  life  fail  to  repeat.     Most  busy  and  fruitful 
are  these  early  years  of  childhood.     Scarcely  again  do  we 
learn  so  many  and  so  perfect  lessons  in  so  brief  a  period. 
What  the  painter  by  slow  analysis  is  able  to  reverse,  pre- 
senting spaces,  directions,  distances,  forms,  on  a  plain  sur- 
face of  varying  colors  ;  rendering  the  landscape,   with  an 
area  of  many  square  miles,  on  a  canvass  of  scarcely  more 
square  inches ;  the  child  of  a  few  years  has  learned  to  do 
with  far  more  perfection,  opening  up  and  out  the  simple 
vignette  of  the  retina,  till  it  fills  in  every  part  the  magnifi- 


278  DYNAMICS  OF  TEE  INTELLECT. 

cent  stretches  before  and  about  us.  Nor  does  the  growing 
mind  stop  with  understanding  the  things  about  it.  It  finds, 
in  a  marvelous  way,  tliose  harmonized  powers  by  which  it 
moves  among  these  objects,  modifies  them,  and  reproduces 
them  in  articulate  speech. 

(7)  With  these  acquisitions  partially  made,  the  mind  is 
ready  for  the  ordinary  work  of  what  we  formally  recog- 
nize as  study — the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  This  proc- 
ess will  receive  farther  attention. 

(8)  The  last  step  in  this  rational  movement  is  the  clear 
recognition  of  regulative  ideas,  allowing  each  its  due  posi- 
tion and  force.  This  makes  the  rational  process  rational  to 
itself. 

Regulative  ideas  are  not  first  present  as  objects  of  dis- 
tinct recognition,  but  as  unthought-of  principles  which 
guide  our  consideration  and  apprehension  of  the  phenomena 
before  us.  They  may  sooner  or  later,  or  not  at  all,  be  an- 
alyzed out  as  distinct  elements  of  thought,  though  as  un- 
conscious ingredients  they  are,  in  some  one  or  other  of  their 
forms,  present  from  the  very  beginning.  It  is  not  till  the 
class  of  phenomena  to  which  it  pertains  are  brought  forward, 
enter  into  the  experience,  and  call  forth  the  attention  and 
judgment,  that  any  one  of  these  ideas,  as  that  of  beauty,  of 
liberty,  or  of  right,  will  find  development,  application  and, 
latest  of  all,  comprehension. 

§  2.  The  mind,  once  in  ]30ssession  and  use  of  its  facul- 
ties ;  its  perceptions  and  sensations  made  complete  and  in- 
stant in  their  action  by  the  absorption  of  the  needed  judg- 
ments ;  the  intuitive  notions  all  present,  aiding  to  expand, 
locate,  relate,  and  expound  the  several  objects  and  events 
of  experience,  and  give  form  and  rational  coherence  to 
thought,  is  ready  for  the  acquisition  of  what  is  more  com- 
monly known  as  knowledge.  This  mastery  of  conditions  is 
60  early,  so  spontaneous,  so  inevitable,  that  we  more  fre- 


OROWTU  OF  MIND.  271; 

qiiently  overlook  it,  and  regard  the  complex  result  as  imme- 
diate and  direct.  For  the  same  reason  we  hardly  expend  a 
thought  on  the  ways  in  which  spoken  language  is  secured 
by  the  child,  and  look  upon  education  as  commencing  with 
the  learning  of  the  letters — the  written  alphabet.  Yet  the 
first  acquisition,  though  imitative  aud  spontaneous,  involves 
a  more  fundamental  training  and  penetrates  deeper  into  the 
physical  powers  by  far  than  the  second. 

The  intellect,  once  in  possession  of  itself,  finds  chief  oc- 
casion to  expand  its  knowledge  under  the  notion  of  resem- 
blance. It  is  through  this  that  it  traces  and  interprets 
the  lines  of  force  ;  and  by  these  that  it  gains  power.  Yet 
we  cannot  accept  the  statement,  that  all  judgments  can  be 
analyzed  into  resemblance,  into  agreement  and  disagree- 
ment ;  and  yet  more  do  we  not  assent  to  the  assertion,  that 
these  resemblances  are  sought  for  their  own  sake.  Each 
regulative  idea  furnishes  the  ground  of  a  distinct  predica- 
tion, not  to  be  resolved  in  its  very  essence  by  the  most  sub- 
tle analysis  into  any  other.  Moreover,  resemblances  are  of 
value,  and  only  of  value,  as  they  are  the  indices  of  agree- 
ing forces,  as  they  are  the  surface  marks  which  disclose  the 
concealed  lines  of  connection  between  objects  and  events. 

Power  is  the  fundamental  element  of  knowledge,  that 
which  makes  its  search  pleasant,  and  its  acquisition  profita- 
ble. Tlie  desire  for  knowledge  which  gives  no  power  is 
like  avarice,  the  morbid  play  of  a  just  impulse.  To  know 
the  exact  number  of  leaves  on  a  tree,  their  position  and 
form,  the  precise  way  in  which  some  ancient  but  insignifi- 
cant event  happened,  the  very  words  in  wliich  some  second- 
rate  poet  expressed  himself,  is  to  know  to  no  good  purpose, 
is  to  have  the  semblance,  not  the  substance  of  wisdom,  the 
shell,  not  the  kernel  of  truth.  Eesemblances  which  are 
accidental,  which  betray  no  relationship,  as  the  size  and 
form  of  a  boy's  marble  when  compared  with  the  pebbles  on 


280  J)  TNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

the  beach,  or  the  agreement  of  sounds  and  signs  in  unre- 
lated languages,  have  no  interest  and  subserve  none  of  the 
purposes  of  knowledge.  A  resemblance  which  is  a  mere 
resemblance,  which  casts  no  light  on  the  past,  and  gives  no 
clue  to  the  future,  which  discloses  none  of  the  forces  at 
work  in  the  workl,  is  unfruitful,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  of 
no  value.  That  which  makes  the  search  after  ai^reements 
so  unremitting  are  the  axioms  of  causation :  that  Like 
causes  are  followed  by  like  effects,  and  that  Like  effects  in- 
dicate like  causes.  These  transform  a  knowledge  of  real 
central  agreements  into  power,  put  us  in  connection  with 
the  plan  of  the  world,  enable  us  to  bring  new  forces  into 
it,  and  take  new  and  coveted  effects  from  it.  Resemblance 
is  simply  the  key  to  the  storehouses  of  forces. 

Uncultivated  minds,  so  far  as  they  pursue  knowledge  at 
all,  do  it  under  this  form ;  an  observation  of  resemblances 
with  reference  to  an  ulterior  possession  and  control  of  causes. 
The  savage  distinguishes  between  the  different  kinds  of  tim- 
ber, because  he  expects  the  same  external  indications  to 
remain  the  accompaniments  and  marks  of  certain  interior 
qualities  of  strength,  weight,  elasticity.  A  bow  of  the 
same  material  he  believes  will  exhibit  the  same  good  points 
with  which  he  is  familiar ;  a  spear  of  like  w^ood  possess 
like  pliancy  and  toughness.  Language  comes  in  to  mark 
and  hold  together  for  the  mind  these  agreeing  things,  by 
w^hich  the  implements  of  man,  and  his  successive  wants  are 
to  be  supplied. 

Science,  the  advanced  and  complete  movement  of 
thought,  is  but  a  more  rigid  separation  of  like  with  like,  a 
more  careful  selection  of  central  qualities,  a  complete  and 
interdependent  classification  of  objects,  both  that  the  re- 
sources of  the  globe,  in  all  its  ministration  to  human  life, 
may  be  laid  open,  and  also,  that  the  concealed  chart  of  laws, 
according  to  wliicli  the  events  of  the  present  come  pouring 


OROWTH  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  281 

down  from  the  past,  and  go  forth  to  occupy  the  future, 
may  be  disclosed.  Wliile  our  experience,  then,  finds  its 
first  efforts  directed  to  resemblances,  these  lead  to  pro- 
founder  inquiries  into  causes,  those  links  of  force  which 
lengthwise  and  laterally  bind  together  the  physical  events 
of  the  world. 

At  length  the  purely  objective  character  of  knowledge 
passes  somewhat  away.  The  mind  gives  heed  to  the  agent 
as  well  as  to  the  instrument.  Having  acquired  power,  it 
learns  to  value  itself,  the  possessor  of  that  power.  With 
more  pure  reflection  and  subjective  attention,  it  inquires 
into  its  own  faculties,  and  the  laws  of  their  control.  Now 
come  forward  new  intuitive  ideas,  liberty,  right,  beauty, 
disjoining  philosophy  from  science,  and  setting  the  first 
over  against  the  second  as  independent  of  it,  and  comple- 
mentary to  it.  This  change  and  jar  of  transition  consti- 
tute the  great  danger  attendant  on  the  acquisition  of  this 
form  of  knowledge.  The  forces  and  notions  of  the  one 
field  are  intruded  into  the  other,  and  those  who  suppose 
themselves  the  most  patient  of  inductive  philosophers  are 
really  visionary  theorists,  adopting  a  disguised  a  priori 
method;  since  they  bring  to  a  new  department  methods 
and  conceptions  alien  to  it,  and  refuse,  vacating  the  mind 
of  prejudice,  to  examine  and  classify  these  fresh  phenomena 
according  to  their  inherent  characteristics  directly  observed. 
There  is  thus  more  or  less  of  vibration  between  the  two 
fields.  Now  the  philosophical,  now  the  scientific  concep- 
tions rule  the  inquiring  mind.  The  present,  passionate, 
physical  researches  and  methods  of  thought  are  sure  to 
be  followed  by  a  recoil  against  forms  of  inquiry  so  one- 
sided, so  unscrupulous  in  their  application.  The  deductive 
method  was  never  more  arbitrarily  applied  to  science,  w^ith 
less  correction  from  experience,  than  is  the  inductive 
method  now  to  philosophy,  bringing  with  it  the  forms  and 


282  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

forces  of  physics.  Induction  transferred  from  one  field  to 
another,  without  fresh  starting  points  and  new  limitations, 
?s  really  disguised  and  unsafe  deduction.  Knowledge  stalks 
on  with  alternate  strides,  and,  in  the  rhythm  of  progress, 
the  swing  of  one  limb  makes  way  for  that  of  the  other. 
The  movement  is  in  truth  somewhat  more  complex  than 
here  indicated.  In  the  earlier  periods  of  thought,  the 
notion  of  spontaneity  crowds  upon  that  of  causation  ;  phys- 
ical events  are  displaced  by  spiritual  ones,  or  are  referred 
to  supersensual  causes.  Hence  come  the  endless  throng  of 
superstitions.  These  at  length  are  driven  back  by  science, 
and  the  reverse  error  commences.  Causes  take  the  place 
of  powers  within  the  domain  of  mind  itself,  and  an  unrea- 
sonable skej)ticism  displaces  unreasonable  belief.  Later 
the  mind  learns  to  balance  its  convictions,  and  make  them 
proportionate  within  themselves. 

The  mind  measures  all  things  by  the  scope  of  its  own 
powers  too  much  to  rest  on  the  naked  facts  of  the  world. 
The  forces  which  they  disclose  and  the  plan  which  they  re- 
veal, with  the  wisdom  of  its  conception  and  the  kindness  of 
its  execution,  push  the  thoughts  farther  back  to  the  source  of 
these  truly  intellectual  and  moral  elements.  The  progress, 
also,  which  is  discovered,  together  with  that  irresistible  claim 
which  the  mind  institutes  for  completion,  for  ends  reached 
and  fruits  acheived,  push  it  forward  in  thought,  and  lead  it 
willingly  to  gather  up  the  issues  of  existence  into  the  hand 
of  Him  who  gave  it.  That  this  movement  may  be  final, 
that  a  true  compass  and  circuit,  source  and  conclusion  of  the 
actual,  the  finite  and  the  necessary,  may  be  found  ;  that  the 
mind  )nay  rest  in  one  last  stroke  of  comprehension,  it  brings 
forward  the  highest  of  its  intellectual  solvents — the  Infinite, 
the  Absolute.  A  free  and  holy  personality  is  to  be  made  to 
the  mind  and  heart,  tlie  cause  and  compass  of  the  universe. 
This  movement  becomes  complete  and  assured  in  connection 


OROWTH  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


283 


with  revelation,  an  outer  voice,  which  takes  hold  on  inner 
powers,  and  gives  steadfastness  and  certainty  to  their  con- 
clusion. The  mind  is  not  left  alone  to  travel  these  outly- 
ing highways  of  thought. 

In  this  growth  of  knowledge  through  science,  philoso- 
phy and  theology,  deduction  and  induction  play  interming- 
led and  inseparable  parts.     Deduction  from  necessary  ideas, 
from   definitions  and  axioms   intuitively   conceived  under 
them,  gives  us  first  principles,  the  ever  present  instruments 
of  inquiry.     Induction  is  nothing  without  a  theory,  a  con- 
ception of  some  sort,  running  side  by  side  with  its  classifica- 
tions, guiding  and  interpreting  them,  and  ready  deductively 
to  furnish  shining  strokes  of  exposition.     The  theory  with 
its  derived  conclusions  is  most  impotent  and  misleading, 
save  as  induction  presides  at  the  birth  and  growth  of  it. 
The  wise  mind  is  always  laying  up  the  facts  of  nature,  like 
stones  in  a  building  ;  but  laying  them   up   under  a  plan 
which  it  has  caught  by  penetrating  beneath  the  surface  ;  by 
interpreting  signs  and  relations,  unintelligible  to  the  merely 
physical  eye.     Here,  then,  in  the  growth  of  general  knowl- 
edge, we  have  the  counterpart  of  that  which  we  find  in  the 
individual  mind.     The  elaborative  faculty,  the  understand- 
ing, is  ever  playing  between   the  sensations  and  the  intu- 
itions, weaving  them  into  a  rational  experience.     In  like 
manner  the  philosophy  and  the  science  of  the  world  are 
bringing  downward,  deductively,  the  theories  of  the  mind  ; 
are  bringing  upward,  inductively,  the  phenomena  of  nature 
and  mind,  and  slowly  uniting  them  into  one  compact  web 
of  knowledge  ;  the  exposition  running  as  light  through  the 
facts,  and  the  facts  embodying  and  presenting  the   expos- 
ition.    The  one  process  is  as  necessary  as   the  other,  the 
woof  as  the  warp. 

§  3.  We  wish  to  mark  briefly  the  means  by  which  the 
mind  advances  in  acquisition— the  instruments  of  intellec- 


284  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

tual  growth  at  its  service.  Sensations,  perceptions,  the  data 
of  consciousness  enlarge  for  it  the  material  of  thought,  and 
are  themselves  simple,  uliimate  forms  of  knowing.  Nothing 
can  replace  them.  Colors,  sounds,  odors,  flavors  are  appre- 
hended exclusively  through  the  organs  by  which  they  enter. 
Further,  they  give  us  inexhaustible  material  for  inquiry, 
facts  to  which  the  mind  may  bring  its  explanatory  processes, 
and  which  it  may  work  up  into  knowledge.  Intuitions 
without  these,  as  mere  intuitions,  would  remain  empty  for- 
mulge,  intellectual  solvents  with  no  mysteries  to  resolve. 

IN^ext  come  judgments.  These  are  the  steps  in  the  ra- 
tionalizing, comprehending  process.  To  be  able  to  form  a 
judgment,  is  to  be  able  to  put  forth  true  intellectual  effort ; 
is  to  turn  the  key  in  locks  that  guard  all  knowledge.  It 
implies  completeness  of  mental  furniture,  the  entire  mate- 
rial of  growth.  Simple  judgments  are  the  staples  of  knowl- 
edge ;  while  they  may  be  formed  under  any  idea,  that  of 
resemblance  assumes  chief  significance.  All  classification 
proceeds  through  this,  and  is  a  first  and  last  step  in  progress. 
It  is  by  a  comparison  of  qualities  that  our  knowledge  of 
the  objects  about  us  becomes  serviceable.  Much,  perhaps 
the  larger  share  of  our  progress,  is  made  by  simple  judg- 
ments, related  indeed  to  one  another,  but  not  interlocked 
in  reasoning.  By  a  series  of  inquiries,  we  place  objects  in 
their  appropriate  classes,  and  furnish  them  ready  both  for 
our  intellectual  and  physical  uses. 

Reasoning,  or  interlocked  judgments,  follows  simple 
judgments  as  a  means  of  progress.  There  is  considerable 
disagreement  as  to  the  forms  and  character  of  reasoning, 
arising  largely,  we  think,  from  a  different  use  of  words. 
One  form  of  procedure  is  covered  by  the  words  reasoning 
and  logic  as  used  by  Hamilton,  and  another  as  used  by  Mill ; 
while  others  combine,  with  more  or  less  confusion,  the  two 
uses.     Hamilton,   by  a  definition,  confines  the  province  of 


FORMS  OF  REASONING.  285 

logic  to  the  necessary  laws  of  thought,  or  practically  to  the 
demonstrative  evolution  of  conclusions  from  premises  that 
are  given.  He  does  not  inquire  into  the  manner  of  ob- 
taining the  premises,  hut  only  into  the  certainty  and  safety 
of  that  purely  intellectual  process  by  which,  as  verbal  prop- 
ositions, they  are  found  to  hold  those  other  verbal  proposi- 
tions known  as  conclusions.  The  whole  movement  is  thus 
detached  from  facts  as  facts,  and,  according  to  the  general 
use  of  words,  is,  when  reasoning  at  all,  deductive  reasoning. 
That  is,  the  conclusions  are  wholly  contained  in,  and  de- 
monstratively taken  from,  the  premises.  Hamilton  gives  a 
technical  and  peculiar  application  to  the  words  inductive 
and  deductive,  regards  both  forms  of  reasoning  as  equally 
demonstrative,  and  leaves  wholly  out  of  his  logic  that  true 
induction,  usually  so-called,  to  the  elucidation  of  which 
Mill  has  given  his  entire  strength.  Induction  in  its  com- 
monly accepted  meaning,  the  establishment  of  a  general 
principle  through  a  limited  number  of  specific  examples,  is 
all  the  reasoning  which  the  sensualistic  school  can  consist- 
ently recognize.  "What  others  regard  as  deductive  reason- 
ing, they  are  compelled  to  look  upon  in  ultimate  analysis 
as  inductive.  Deduction  can  be  nothing  more  with  them 
than  the  re-statement  of  a  specific  case  already  included  in 
the  establishment  of  the  general  principle,  or  major  pre- 
mise, from  which  it  is  now  taken.  ISTo  conclusion  is  strictly 
demonstrative,  since  it  is  in  advance  of  the  premises  on 
which  it  rests.  The  descrees  of  evidence  for  new  state- 
ments,  statements  not  confirmed  by  direct  observation,  vary 
with  the  amount  and  character  of  experience  on  which  they 
rest. 

The  entire  system  of  logic,  therefore,  as  presented  by 
Hamilton,  has  for  them  comparatively  little  value.  It  is  a 
cunning  play  upon  words,  rather  than  an  estimate  of  facts. 
They  are  interested  in  the  growth  of  laws,  principles,  out 


286  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLEGT. 

of  those  separate  instances  which  are  only  to  be  gathered 
and  interpreted  by  patient,  careful,  and  often  doubtful  in- 
duction. Each  party  thus  neglects  a  valuable  field  which 
the  other  exclusively  cultivates.  All  that  Mill  regards  as 
reasoning,  Hamilton  scornfully  rejects  from  the  province  of 
logic  as  invalid,  as  not  presenting  with  certainty  the  con- 
clusions in  the  premises  from  which  they  are  taken.  Mill, 
on  the  other  hand,  can  only  look  on  the  complicated  syllo- 
gisms of  Hamilton  as  a  cumbersome  restatement  of  w^ork 
already  done,  of  knowledge  already  gained. 

Much  is  undoubtedly  included  by  Hamilton,  in  the  for- 
mal expansion  of  his  terminology,  as  reasoning,  which  would 
generally  be  regarded  as  simj)le  statement,  as  the  fruit  of 
single  judgments,  as  the  results  of  perception.  This  desk 
contains  this  drawer :  This  drawer  contains  this  paj)er : 
Therefore  this  desk  contains  this  paper.  These  propos- 
itions form  a  syllogism  under  one  of  the  forms  into  which 
he  divides  deductive  reasoning.  Most  would  regard  them 
as  in  no  proper  sense  reasoning,  but  rather  as  a  formal,  un- 
servicable  statement  of  a  fact,  learned  by  observation.  So 
also  his  inductive  reasoning  is  made  up  of  cumbersome 
formulae  of  classification.  "  Gold  is  a  metal,  yellow,  duc- 
tile, fusible,  and  so  on  :  These  cpialities  constitute  this  body 
(are  all  of  its  parts) :  Therefore  this  body  is  gold."  Here 
is  no  argument  properly  so  called,  but  the  rendering  of  the 
results  of  the  experimental  test  of  a  bit  of  metal,  with  the 
accompanying  act  of  classification.  There  would  seem  to 
be  room  in  a  logic,  covering  all  the  forms  of  reasoning, 
and  those  of  reasoning  only,  both  for  deduction  and  induc- 
tion, using  the  words  in  their  more  general  and  generally 
accepted  meanings.  An  important  branch  of  logic  finds 
representation  in  Hamilton  and  Mill  respectively. 

What  is  reasoning  ?     It  is  the  reaching  of  a  new  con- 
clusion, certain  or  probable,  by  means  of  two  or  more  inter- 


FORMS  OF  REASONING.  287 

locked  judgments.     We  would  lay  stress  on  the  word  new, 
and  on  the  words  certain  or  probable.     Our  necessary  ideas 
and  our  theories  suffer  expansion  by  a  purely  deductive 
process.     Geometry  is  a  deductive   science,  derived  from// 
intuitions,    definitions,   and   axioms.      Astronomy  and  me-'/ 
chanics  are  full  of  pure  deductions,  resting  on  conceptions 
of  force  confirmed  by  experience.     How  much  is  involved 
in  certain,  simple  statements,  we  often  only  learn  by  a  series 
of  related  judgments.     This  is  one  of  the  earliest  forms  of 
scientific  reasoning,  and  presents  in  mathematics,  pure  and 
mixed,  its  most  extended  and  serviceable  results.     The  cer- 
tainty, and,  when  fitting  data  are  found,  the  celerity  of  its 
conclusions,  abundantly  explain  its  fascination,  and  the  po- 
sition it  has  held  in  investigation.     The  introduction  of  a 
mathematical  unit,  and  application  of  number  to  a  subject, 
have  usually  been  the  signal  for  a  rapid  advance. 

This  deductive  reasoning  rests  on  intuitive  steps,  and 
will  readily  fall  into  a  syllogistic  form.  The  syllogism  is 
perfect ;  for  the  premises  as  premises,  in  their  very  state- 
ment, are  seen  to  contain  the  conclusion.  No  outside  cir- 
cumstances affect  their  relation. 

Inductive  reasoning,  on  the  other  hand,  deals  only  with 
probabilities,  because  it  pertains  to  things  imperfectly  known 
and  to  facts  whose  conditions  are  ever  changing.  It  rests  i 
at  bottom  on  the  intuition  of  causation,  the  simplest  state-/ 
ment  of  which  is,  Every  event  must  have  a  cause.  Its  cor- 
ollaries are,  that  every  effect  measures  its  cause,  that  the 
two  are  exactly  commensurate,  and,  that  sameness  in  one 
is  proof  of  sameness  in  the  other.  These  spring  from  the 
original,  independent  conception  of  causation.  Proof  un- 
der this  notion,  would  be  as  certain  as  under  the  ideas  of 
space  and  time,  were  we  always  dealing  with  perfectly  fixed 
and  perfectly  known  premises.  We  do  not  by  observation 
so  penetrate  the  nature  of  objects,  and  the  character  of  com- 


288  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

plex  plienomena,  as  to  be  sure  of  the  elements  present,  and 
sure,  therefore,  of  the  effects  that  may  be  expected.  We  do 
not  know  exactly  how  far  one  wood  differs  from  another, 
one  metal  from  another,  one  element,  so  called,  from  itself 
at  a  former  period.  Much  less  do  we  know  all  the  circum- 
stances which  affect  the  complex  problems  of  life,  which  in- 
fluence the  growtli  of  a  tree,  which  are  concerned  in  the 
health  of  a  man,  in  the  welfare  of  a  community.  We  here, 
therefore,  advance  from  one  case  to  another  along  uncertain 
links  of  likeness,  not  knowing  positively  whether  the  agree- 
ment covers  the  essential  points  of  the  two  cases  or  not. 
The  various  degrees  of  likeness  are  identity,  sameness,  re- 
semblance, analogy. 

In  induction,  by  which  from  several  examples  we  infer 
a  general  principle,  we  are  proceeding  on  a  resemblance 
more  or  less  obscure,  hence  more  or  less  uncertain.  Differ- 
ent cases  stand  on  their  own  independent  merits,  and  the 
probability  in  each  is  in  proportion  to  the  certainty  with 
which  the  agreement  in  the  example  covers  the  force  or 
forces  involved  in  the  causation  under  consideration.  That 
all  magnets  attract  iron,  is  a  conclusion  on  which  we  rest 
with  entire  conviction,  having  by  such  uniform  observation 
traced  this  result  to  this  cause.  Yet  it  is  not  an  impossi- 
bility, that  some  new  substance  or  combination  of  sub- 
stances should  exhibit  the  other  properties  of  a  ipagnet 
with  the  omission  of  this.  We  cannot  say,  how  new  con- 
ditions of  action  may  modify  the  force  termed  magnetism. 
Now,  by  far  the  larger  part  of  the  reasoning  of  natural 
science  and  of  every-day-life  is  of  this  character,  creeping 
from  reseml)lance  to  resemblance,  and  unable  to  affirm  of 
its  best  conchisions,  tliat  they  are  demonstrative.  To  this 
reasoning,  the  syllogism  is  not  applicable,  since  the  premises 
as  premises  are  partial,  and  do  not  contain  the  law  in  its 
full  breadth  which  is  to  be  evolved  from  them.     This  phil- 


FORMS  OF  REASONING.  289 

osophy  of  experience,  therefore,  can  lay  no  great  stress  on 
the  syllogism.     The  only  service  it  can  assign  it,  is  that  of 
a  convenient  re-statement  of  conclusions  already  arrived  at, 
and  this,  not  in  the  exact  line  in  which  the  first,  the  real  ar- 
gument lay.     This  was  on  the  road  upward  to  the  principle, 
whereas  the  syllogism  lies  in  the  way  downward  to  a  specific 
example   included   under  it.     When   inductive   matter  re- 
ceives syllogistic  statement,  either  the  statement  is  defec- 
tive, or  the  general  principle  is  assumed,  and  then  the  case 
in  hand  is  taken  from  it.     The  argument  by  which  we  mount 
to  a  general  law,  does  not  suffer  a  syllogism  ;  the  seeming 
argument  by  which  we  descend  to  a  particular  fact  is  but  a 
restatement  of   previous  knowledge,  and  yields  a  syllogism 
deductive  in  form.     Of  the  defective,  inductive  syllogism, 
the  following  is  an  example  ;  The  metals  A,  B,  C,  represent 
(not  are)  all  metals  ;  A,  B,  C,  expand  under  heat ;  therefore 
all  metals  expand  under  heat.     This  result  is  proximately 
not  absolutely  true.     If  the  law  had  been   established   by 
sufficient  observation,  that  all  metals  expand  when  heated, 
the  following  would  be  the  deductive  syllogistic  statement 
of  a  single  fact  covered  by  it.     All  metals  expand  by  heat : 
A  is  a  metal ;  therefore  A  expands  under  heat.     The  confu- 
sion which  has  arisen  in  the  various  estimates  of  the  value 
of  the  syllogism  seems  to  find  its  sources  in  the  language 
employed,  in  two  restricted  definitions,  and,  more  than  all, 
in  failing  to  estimate  the  influence  of  different  philosophical 
systems  on  the  respective  methods  of  logic. 

The  two  forms  of  reasoning  differ  (1)  in  their  data. 
Deduction  starts  either  with  intuitive  data,  or  with  state- 
ments of  facts  regarded  as  complete ;  induction  rests  upon 
facts  and  statements  obviously  partial.  (2)  The  connections 
between  the  premises  in  the  one  form  of  reasoning  involves 
axioms  only  ;  in  the  other  it  includes  one  or  other  of  all  the 
shades  of  Resemblance  contained  between  perfect  identity 


290  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

and  mere  analogy.  Between  these  two  there  is  a  contin- 
uous series  of  weakening  agreements,  which  we  have  di- 
vided into  parts  by  the  words,  identity,  sameness,  resem- 
blance, analogy.  Identity  is  a  secure  basis  of  reasoning,  but 
we  cannot  absolutely  affirm  it ;  sameness,  a  close  agreement 
in  qualities,  admits  considerable  doubt;  resemblance,  a  less 
close  agreement,  renders  the  argument  inset3ure ;  while  an- 
alogy, an  agreement  in  relations,  may  only  call  out  a  pre- 
sumption. (3)  The  two  forms  of  reasoning  differ,  therefore, 
broadly  in  the  force  of  the  conclusion  ;  in  the  one  it  is  de- 
monstrative, in  the  other  it  has  every  shade  of  certainty 
less  than  the  highest.  (4)  They  differ  also  in  form.  The 
syllogism  belongs  to  deduction  only  ;  if  applied  to  induc- 
tion, it  is  either  incomplete  or  assumes  the  thing  to  be 
proved.  Life  is  thus  permeated  with  both  elements,  wdth 
certainty  and  with  doubt.  Wisdom  and  strength  are  found 
in  handling  the  two  conjointly. 

We  have  followed  the  ordinary  division  of  reasoning, 
though  we  doubt  its  completeness.  We  prefer  to  regard  rea- 
soning of  three  orders,  according  as  it  deals  with  pure  intui- 
tive data,  with  empirical  data,  or  with  these  data  assumed 
as  absolute.  Mathematics  is  the  chief  example  of  the  first 
order.  Pure  mental  conceptions  are  unfolded  througli  long 
trains  of  reasoning  into  appropriate  formulie  and  proposi- 
tions. The  connection  under  which  this  is  done  is  that  of 
equality  or  equivalence.  The  reasoning  proceeds  by  affirm- 
ing— or  denying — an  exact  equality.  The  conclusion  is 
identical  with  the  premises  as  clearly  understood.  This  rea- 
soning may  be  termed  production,  the  leading  onward  of 
data  from  one  form  of  expression  to  another.  In  dealing 
with  things,  we  are  constantly  embarrassed  by  the  want  of 
perfect  insight.  We  hesitatingly  reach  a  general  conclu- 
sion by  combining  under  it  few  or  many  examples.  This 
is  induction.     Such  a  conclusion   being  reached,   and   ex- 


ATTENTION.  291 

pressed  as  a  class,  we  may,  either  in  extending  onr  knowl- 
edge or  in  reviving  it,  reason  from  the  class  to  any  one  of 
its  subdivisions.  This  is  done  under  the  Aristotelian  prin- 
ciple, that  what  is  affirmed  of  a  class  ivS  affirmed  of  each 
member  in  that  class.  This  is  deduction,  and  its  logical 
formula  is  A  is  A. 

§  4.  The  intellect  beino^  thus  furnished  with  faculties, 
and  stored  with  their  fruits,  we  inquire  into  its  control 
over  them,  its  directing  influence.  We  speak  first  of  the 
government  of  the  thoughts.  The  mind  can  direct  the  eye, 
the  ear,  to  any  object  it  chooses,  and  command  their  pro- 
longed attention.  (1)  It  can  make  any  object  the  subject 
of  protracted  contemplation,  and  confine  the  analytic  and 
reasoning  processes  to  it.  It  can  intensify  and  guide  its 
mental  activities  in  degrees  varying  with  the  power  which 
previous  practice  has  given  it.  This  voluntary  direction 
and  handling:  of  faculties  is  attention,  and  is  referable  to 
that  personal  force  from  which  all  the  faculties  as  separate 
directions  of  action  spring. 

The  number  of  objects  which  can  at  once  be  made  the 
subjects  of  attention  has  been  a  question  vigorously  de- 
bated. The  mind  seems  to  be  single  in  what  may  be 
termed  its  line  of  movement,  its  chain  of  connections  ;  but 
to  be  able  to  unite  in  this  movement  many  diverse  things. 
Our  thoughts  braid  into  one  experience,  link  in  one  argu- 
ment, diverse  subjects;  they  proceed  by  junction  and  in- 
clusion, evening  and  strengthening  the  thread  with  mate- 
rial drawn  from  the  right  hand  and  the  left. 

The  reason  why  it  has  been  doubted  whether  the  mind 
can  attend  to  more  than  one  object  is  in  part  found  in  the 
fact,  that  the  very  effort  of  the  mind  to  decide  the  question 
serves  to  occasion  that  fixed,  full,  complete  attention  which 
is  concentrated  on  a  single  object,  and  leads  to  the  partial 
exclusion  of  other  objects.     Of  course  we  cannot  give  the 


292  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

entire  attention  to  two  objects  as  two,  struggling  in  the 
same  instant  to  contemplate  them  with  distinctness  separ- 
ately. Failing  in  this,  we  have  hastily  concluded  that  the 
mind  can  attend  to  but  one  thing  at  a  time.  Let  the 
thoughts  move  freely,  and  it  seems  obvious  that  we  do  con- 
sider several  objects  at  once,  some  of  us  more,  some  less. 
The  shepherd  counts  his  flock  as  they  pass  before  him  or 
stand  around  him.  He  will  more  likely  do  it  by  threes  or 
fives,  grouping  the  numbers  by  a  stroke  of  the  eye.  One 
practiced  in  dividing  paper  into  quarter  quires  w^ill  instan- 
taneously, on  the  ruffled  edge,  select  the  number  six,  and 
with  astonishing  rapidity  run  through  the  pile.  This  ten- 
dency in  enumeration  to  divide  objects  into  greater  and 
smaller  groups,  according  to  the  degree  of  skill,  plainly  re- 
veals the  power  of  the  mind  to  contemplate  at  once  sev- 
eral objects.  Indeed,  were  the  mind  limited  to  absolute 
singleness  of  attention  and  direction,  its  states  would  suc- 
ceed each  other  in  a  disconnected  and  inde];)endent  form. 
Every  judgment  involves  two  terms  and  a  relation  between 
them. 

A  more  inijDortant  question  arises,  (2)  as  to  the  power 
which  the  mind  possesses  in  introducing  to  itself  the  ob- 
jects which  it  may  afterward  consider.  So  far  as  these  are 
external  objects  it  may  open  for  them  the  avenues  of  percep- 
tion, and  then  select  among  them  those  which  it  will  more 
carefully  observe.  It  may  also  seek  the  locality  of  remem- 
bered or  described  objects,  and  thus  prolong  their  consider- 
iition.  In  this  direction,  the  mind  is  limited,  first  to  things 
that  are ;  second  to  those  among  these  known  to  it  and  ac- 
cessible to  it.  A  large  share  of  the  government  we  have 
over  our  thoughts  is  found  in  our  mastery  of  the  external 
conditions  of  life,  of  situations  and  circumstances.  A 
deeper  inquiry  lies  in  the  questions,  (3)  How  far  does  the 
mind  control  the  order  of  ideas  that  are  passing  through  it  ? 


POWER  OF  MIND  OVER  ITS  IDEAS.  293 

and  How  far  is  the  flow  establislied  and  maintained  by  in- 
dependent connections  ? 

The  doctrine  of  association  has  been  the  occasion  of 
ascribing  a  dependence  and  passivity  to  intellectual  con- 
nections which  we  deem  wholly  false.  The  association  of 
ideas  has  been  accepted  as  an  nltimate  fact,  and  itself  with- 
out explanation,  been  proffered  as  an  explanation  of  every 
other  fact.  This  solution  has  proceeded  under  physical  an- 
alogies, especially  those  of  habit  in  the  body.  A  form  of 
activity,  often  returning  to  the  muscles,  so  interlocks  the 
nerves  and  muscles,  so  passes  over  their  connection  from 
the  voluntary  to  the  automatic  region,  that  the  mere  fact  of 
repetition  becomes  a  reason  for  many  movements  not  di- 
rectly intended.  Under  the  suggestion  of  this  fact,  ideas 
are  spoken  of  as  associated,  and  this  association  seems  to  be 
often  thought  of  as  involving  some  direct,  almost  mechani- 
cal connection  of  one  idea  with  another;  as  if  the  first 
evoked  and  drew^  on  the  second  by  an  immediate  force. 
Thus  we  have  such  expressions  as  the  "  cohesiveness  of 
ideas,"  "the  principle  of  cohesiveness,"  "the  property  of 
plastic  adhesiveness,"  "  the  tenacity  of  association."  Those 
who  thus  use  the  law  of  association,  refer  the  order  of  ideas 
in  the  mind  to  it,  and  give  the  mind  itself  but  little  con- 
trol over  them,  beyond  that  of  hastening  or  checking  their 
movement. 

It  is  the  living  power  of  the  mind,  rather  than  an  in- 
trinsic coherence  of  ideas  that  combines  them  into  thought, 
and  locates  them  in  revery.  The  memory  proceeds  along 
the  connections  of  place,  time,  resemblance  and  causation, 
because  these  are  the  forms  under  which  objects  are  prin- 
cipally presented  to  it ;  and  the  groups  of  memory  princi- 
pally determine  the  connections  and  dependence  of  concep- 
tions, when  they  return  to  the  mind.  One  object  tends  to 
restore  in  memory,  more  or  less  distinctly,  the  entire  group 


291  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

of  wliicli  it  forms  a  part,  and  its  earlier  and  later  relation- 
ships are  renewed,  because  the  memory  is  by  it  directed  to 
that  portion  of  experience  in  which  it  has  played  a  pai-t. 
Ideas  are  thus  interlocked  in  memory,  and  return  to  the 
mind  surrounded  more  or  less  completely  with  their  ad- 
juncts, their  companions  in  previous  knowledge.  A  second 
ground  of  association  is  that  of  the  deductive  dependence 
of  ideas.  The  logical  power  of  the  mind  on  the  presence 
of  a  part  expounds  it  by  reference  to  the  vv  hole ;  or  on  the 
presence  of  a  whole  unfolds  it  in  its  parts. 

These  two  forms  of  association  correspond  to  the  two 
methods  of  acquiring  knowledge.  Observation,  induction 
present  objects  as  physical  wdioles,  and  the  memory  so  retains 
them ;  analysis,  deduction  unfold  ideas,  and  the  memory 
and  the  logical  faculties  combine  to  repeat,  on  fit  occasions? 
these  processes.  The  cement  of  ideas  is  the  living  forces 
that  use  them,  not  a  dead  adhesiveness  belonging  to  them  as 
ideas,  or  dependent  on  the  nervous  conditions  of  their  pres- 
ence. It  is  not  a  reverberation  of  tissues,  but  of  thoughts, 
to  which  attention  should  be  directed. 

We  see  at  once,  then,  that  the  power  of  the  mind  over 
its  trains  of  ideas  is  greater  than  many  are  willing  to  admit. 
Take  any  one  moment,  with  the  tendencies  aud  memories 
of  the  past  fixed,  the  circumstances  of  the  present  estab- 
lished, the  current  of  the  desires  strong  and  declared,  and 
thoughts  and  conceptions  may  seem  rather  to  sweep  inde- 
pendently through  the  mind,  a  deep,  uncontrollable  cur- 
rent, than  to  be  called  forth  and  used  by  it.  Take,  how- 
ever, a  longer  period,  let  the  mind  desire  to  assume  con- 
trol, and  this  appearance  of  helplessness  will  pass  away, 
and  our  impressions  will  be  reversed.  Times  are  set  apart 
to  definite  inquiries.  The  passing  hours  bring  each  its 
suggestion  of  its  part  of  the  plan.  The  memory  is  more 
and  more  stored  with  material  suitable  to  the  investigation 


POWER  OF  MIND   OVER  ITS  IDEAS.  295 

or  to  the  effort  in  hand.  External  circumstances  favorable 
to  the  inquiry,  are  secured.  The  desires,  quickened  by  exer- 
cise, lend  their  aid  in  constraining  and  spurring  on  the 
thoughts.  The  purpose,  kept  in  view,  evokes  from  the 
memory  on  each  new  exigency,  every  fitting  idea  in  the 
increasing  circle  of  its  information,  while  tlie  logical  con- 
nection of  ideas  guides  the  pursuit  along  the  right  trail. 
Under  these  conditions,  we  shortly  behold  an  intellectual 
power  which  works  as  intensely,  as  directly,  as  uninterrupt- 
edly toward  its  end,  as  the  engine  whose  valves  and  pistons 
and  wheels  are  driven  by  a  mechanical  agency.  A  way- 
ward pleasure  of  vagrant  connections  may  turn  the  thoughts 
for  a  moment  aside,  but  not  more  frequently  nor  more  un- 
fortunately than  the  flower  or  the  fruit  the  wayside  traveler 
steadily  pursuing  his  journey.  States  and  powers  of  mind 
are  not  indeed  instantly  determined,  immediately  gained ; 
but  tendencies  are  established,  and  control  acquired  as  cer- 
tainly here  as  in  any  form  of  effort.  The  person  himself 
may  determine  within  the  limits  which  the  surrounding 
world  presents  him,  what  shall  be  his  resources  of  thought, 
and  what  the  motives  calling  them  "  into  act  and  use." 

The  whole  movement  is  a  living  one,  under  a  living  in- 
telligent power,  and  is  no  more  to  be  expounded  as  a  dead 
process,  an  adhesion  of  one  thought  to  another,  than  is  the 
life  of  the  plant  or  of  the  animal  to  be  traced  to  simply 
chemical  forces.  The  very  secret  of  life  is  to  combine  ma- 
terial into  living  organs  ;  the  very  knack  of  mind  is  consec- 
utive, coherent,  self-supporting  thought  and  self-directed 
action. 

If  we  look  upon  the  phenomena  of  mind  as  passing  on 
under  its  observation,  its  immediate  power  over  them  is 
found  in  its  ability  to  select  any  one,  and  to  intensify  and 
prolong  its  consideration.  This  is  attention.  Its  second 
more  comprehensive  power  over  the  flow  of  experience  lies 


296  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

in  the  introduction  of  new  terms  by  memory,  by  following 
out  logical  relations,  or  by  altering  external  conditions.  But 
the  full  sweep  of  its  government,  embracing  long  periods  is 
found  in  shaping  distinct  lines  of  inquiry  and  of  action, 
and  in  adjusting  circumstances  to  their  accomplishment. 
The  whole  stream  of  experience  may  thus  be  turned  into 
new  channels. 

§  5.  The  last  point  on  which  we  have  occasion  to  speak 
under  the  dynamics  of  the  intellect  is  the  difference  in 
mental  endowments  between  the  brute  and  man.  We  are 
necessarily  somewhat  theoretical  in  handling  a  subject  so 
much  beyond  direct  knowledge ;  but  trust  our  theory  will 
commend  itself  as  the  simplest  explanation  of  the  facts, 
wdth  the  least  assumption  and  the  fewest  forces.  There 
seems  to  be  no  proof,  that  any  animal,  the  most  sagacious, 
possesses  any  intuitive  ideas,  and  consequently  that  it  forms 
any  judgments  properly  so-called.  There  is  no  conscious 
estimate  of  the  value  and  bearings  of  sensations,  no  classi- 
fication of  them  inductively,  no  conclusion  deductively 
drawn  from  the  premises  as  such.  Sensation,  perception, 
memory  and  imagination  evidently  belong  to  the  higher 
animals,  and  by  these  faculties,  we  believe,  all  the  intellec- 
tual phenomena  they  present  can  be  readily  explained,  while 
the  ascription  of  fuller  powers  than  these  to  them  brings 
difficulties  which  cannot  be  easily  met.  To  those  who 
doubt  the  possibility  of  presenting  the  appearance  of  reason- 
ing processes  with  these  limited  and  elementary  j^owers,  we 
would  commend  the  works  of  Bain,  and  kindred  philoso- 
phers, who,  with  patient  and  adroit  analysis,  think  them- 
selves successful  in  resolving  the  phenomena  of  mind,  in 
their  most  exalted  forms,  into  the  play  of  sensations  and 
perceptions.  They  at  least  render  this  service  to  true  plii- 
losophy,  of  enabling  us  to  explain  brute  life,  without  ele- 
vating it  in  gifts  to  a  rational  platform.     Those  who  do  not 


ANIMAL  POWERS.  297 

believe  that  the -races  of  men  could  have  sprung  from  one 
pair,  may  be  referred  to  Darwin  ;  those  who  cannot  explain 
the  sagacity  of  the  dog,  his  apparent  sense  of  shame  and  ap- 
proval, without  endowing  him  with  the  entire  circle  of 
human  powers,  moral  and  intellectual,  may  well  find  profit 
and  conviction  in  the  works  of  the  sensualistic  school. 

The  truth  is,  memory  and  perception  can  present,  with 
close  agreement  through  quite  a  wide  range  of  conduct,  an 
image  of  rational  and  moral  behavior.  Memory  can  unite 
impressions  and  their  appropriate  accompanying  actions  in 
permanent  associations,  exhibiting  results  as  safe  and  saga- 
cious as  if  the  union  had  taken  place  by  judgment.  We 
constantly  interpret  the  conduct  of  animals  under  the  analo- 
gies of  our  own  experience  ;  an  act  more  unphilosophical 
even  tlian  for  the  accomplished  and  sensitive  man  to  infer 
the  exact  counterpart  of  his  own  feelings  in  the  clown  from 
an  agreement  of  external  actions.  The  aspen  trembles  with- 
out fear :  the  dog  skulks  and  crouches  in  apparent  shame 
without  a  sense  of  guilt.  The  severe  tones  of  voice,  the 
sharp  eye,  punishment  associated  in  experience  with  like  ac- 
tion, are  a  sufficient  explanation  of  conduct  which  we  often 
hastily  regard  as  showing  the  germs  of  a  moral  nature. 

Indeed,  this  inferring  the  same  sweep  of  thought  and 
feelinp;  from  coincident  actions  in  man  and  in  animals  leads 
constantly  to  the  most  insecure  and  unfortunate  conclusions ; 
unfortunate  when  they  are  made  the  grounds  of  cruel  ex- 
actions, and  the  tyrannous  handling  of  domestic  animals. 
Says  Professor  Whitney,  in  his  treatise  on  Language  and 
the  Study  of  Language :  "  A  dog,  for  instance,  as  surely 
apprehends  the  general  idea  of  a  tree,  a  man,  a  piece  of 
meat,  cold  and  heat,  light  and  darkness,  pleasure  and  pain, 
kindness,  threatening,  barking,  running,  and  so  on,  through 
tlie  whole  range,  limited  as  compared  with  ours,  of  matter 
within  his  ken,  as  if  he  had  a  word  for  each.     He  can  as 


298  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

clearly  form  the  intention,  '  I  mean  to  steal  that  bone,  if  its 
owner  tnrns  his  back  and  gives  me  a  fair  chance,'  as  if  he 
said  it  to  himself  in  good  English.  He  can  draw  a  complex 
syllogism,  when  aj^plying  to  exigencies  the  results  of  past  ex- 
perience, and  can  determine  '  that  smoking  water  must  be 
hot,  and  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  put  my  foot  into  it ; ' 
that  is  to  say,  '  water  that  smokes  is  hot :  hot  water  hurts : 
this  water  is  hot :  ergo  it  will  hurt  my  foot,'  " — page  414. 

While  making  no  objection  to  the  spirit  of  the  pas- 
sage, we  regard  its  philosophical  implications  as  all  wrong. 
Keen  perception  and  quick  association  by  an  active,  reten- 
tive memory  offer  a  complete  explanation  of  the  facts  in- 
volved, and  of  kindred  ones,  without  suj)posing  the  pres- 
ence of  a  single  act  of  judgment,  of  one  thoughtful  junc- 
tion of  premises  and  conclusions  ;  nor  the  recognition  of  any 
general  idea  or  general  principle.  The  fear  of  the  master 
is  present,  and  the  desire  of  the  bone ;  withdraw  the  first, 
and  the  last  comes  into  unobstructed  operation.  The  sight 
of  steam  and  a  delicate  sense  of  heat,  associated  with  pain 
under  exposure,  apply  as  direct  a  restraint  to  action  as  the 
shutting  of  a  valve  to  the  ingress  of  water.  The  difference 
between  the  two  cases  lies  in  the  fact,  that  in  one  instance, 
the  restraining  power  appears  in,  and  works  through,  con- 
sciousness, and  in  the  other  it  does  not. 

That  association  is  sufficient  to  explain  the  apparently 
thoughtful  action  of  brutes,  is  seen,  in  the  first  place,  in 
the  way  in  which  their  sagacious  tricks  are  acquired.  A 
cow  learns  to  open  a  gate  ;  but  how'  ?  First,  by  acciden- 
tally or  impatiently  rubbing  her  head  and  horns  against  it, 
and  thus  loosening  the  latch.  This  process,  repeated  once 
or  twice,  establishes  a  connection  between  the  act  and  its 
results,  and  later,  when  she  wishes  to  be  free,  slie  worries 
the  gate  open.  A  change  of  fastening  relieves  the  diffi- 
culty, not  because  the  new  method  of  reaching  the  latch  is 


FACULTIES  OF  ANIMALS.  299 

necessarily  impossible  to  her,  but  because  it  is  not  accom- 
plished by  the  same  blind  movement  which  removed  the 
previous  one  from  the  catch.  The  horse  learns  to  untie 
himself ;  vary  the  knot,  and  his  skill  disappears.  That  the 
protracted  experience  of  the  brute  must  yield  to  it  not  very 
unfrequently  a  repeated  concurrence  of  the  same  cause  and 
effect,  and  thus  enable  it  to  reach  the  one  through  the  other, 
in  those  cases  in  which  appetite  impresses  on  the  memory 
the  connection,  is  obvious.  Indeed,  that  this  happens  so 
rarely,  is  quite  as  much  a  matter  of  surprise  as  are  the  few 
cases  of  apparent  skill.  "We  know  the  cunning,  vicious 
tricks  w^hich  a  street  animal  acquires ;  but  we  also  know 
that  in  a  keen  appetite  on  the  one  side,  and  much  persecu- 
tion/ on  the  other,  it  has  under  the  law  of  association  the 
most  unwearying  and  vigilant  instructors.  The  restive 
horse,  scorning  the  restraint  of  fences,  has  comj^ounded  his 
education  of  short  and  easy  attainments.  The  spiteful  nag, 
grazing  on  a  village  common,  has  learned  the  ins  and  outs  of 
advantage,  the  safeties  and  dangers  of  provender,  by  many 
a  sharp  thrust  and  sturdy  thwack,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  it  has  quite  a  store  of  ideas  pricked  into  its  tough, 
retentive  hide. 

The  same  truth  is  seen  in  the  methods  of  training — as 
of  the  doo^  and  the  horse.  The  first  effort  is  to  establish  a 
definite  association  of  reward  with  the  action  to  be  done, 
and  one  of  suffering  with  the  action  to  be  avoided.  Says 
a  skillful  handler  of  horses,  "  The  difficult  point  is  to  secure 
the  right  action  in  the  first  instance.  Every  approach  to  it 
should  be  at  once  recognized  and  encourao^ed.  The  animal 
should  be  petted  and  rewarded  at  each  repetition,  till  the 
thing  required  becomes  habitual " — that  is,  till  the  right 
association  is  established.  On  the  other  hand,  the  wrong 
action  is  painfully  and  peremptorily  checked,  til]  the  ten- 
dency to  it  is  corrected.     In  the  meantime,  the  fitting  words 


300  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

of  command  uniformly  accompany  the  discipline,  and  it  re- 
quires no  intelligent  apprehension  of  language  to  lead  the 
horse  to  stoj)  at  the  word  lohoa,  when  it  has  been  repeatedly 
accompanied  with  a  severe  jerk  of  the  bit. 

A  change  of  masters  always  interferes  with  the  training 
of  animalsj  as  for  instance  of  a  yoke  of  oxen,  because  there 
is  a  breaking  up  of  associations,  a  diversity,  and  hence  a 
confusion  of  methods.  Passion  and  hasty  punishment  like- 
wise retard  the  education  of  an  animal.  The  reason  is  obvi- 
ous under  the  princple  of  association.  If  the  brute  were  in 
a  measure  rational,  he  might  interpret  aright  the  flogging, 
and  profit  by  it ;  but,  acting  under  association,  his  con- 
sciousness is  simply  flooded  with  suffering  and  fears,  and 
henceforth,  on  the  like  provocation,  he  becomes  restive  and 
excited  in  anticipation  of  a  similiar,  painful  experience. 
Punishment  that  is  not  proportionate  to  the  wrong,  or 
does  not  immediately  follow  it,  and  spring  as  it  were  out  of 
it,  is  of  no  avail.  The  association  is  lost,  and  no  reasoning 
process  is  present  to  take  its  place.  All  the  facts  of  skillful 
and  successful  discipline  in  animals  come  in  to  corroborate 
the  assertion,  that  action,  with  them,  follows  the  appropriate 
perception  under  fixed  associations. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  why  is  not  the  opposite  sup- 
position of  reasoning  faculties  an  admissible  one?  We 
answer  it  involves  at  once  the  entire  circle  of  regulative 
ideas,  postulates  more  powers  than  are  needed  to  explain 
the  phenomena,  and  it  is  not  consistent  with  the  fact  that 
bnites  exhibit  no  such  growth  as  should,  in  some  instances 
at  least,  follow  the  rudimentary  possession  of  such  high  en- 
dowments. If  the  animal  reflects,  there  is  no  reason  why 
he  should  not  occasionally  express  by  language,  at  least  by 
signs,  the  resuhs  of  that  reflection.  One  rational  thought 
is  not  possible  without  the  possibility  of  two,  of  three,  of 
many  thoughts.     One  syllogism  carries  with  it  the  entire 


FACULTIES  OF  ANIMALS.  301 

logic,  and  such  powers  would  quickly  command  expres- 
sion. This  utterance  of  judgments  we  should  the  more 
anticipate,  as  the  most  sagacious  brutes  are  in  constant 
company  with  man,  and  might  learn  from  him,  in  some 
instances,  vocal  language,  in  others,  sign-language. 

The  fundamental  difference  in  mental  action  between 
the  brute  and  man,  incident  to  the  absence  of  intuitive 
ideas,  is  the  fact,  that  man  alone  deals  with  abstractions, 
generalizations,  conceptions.  The  animal  has  to  do  directly 
with  things  and  their  images.  All  analysis  proceeds  under 
an  intuitive  idea,  and  no  sooner  reaches  an  abstraction  than 
it  calls  for  a  sign,  a  word  to  exj^ress  and  hold  fast  the  prod- 
uct. The  animal  can  not  be  taught  language,  because  it 
has  no  occasion  for  language,  lacking  abstractions  either  of 
qualities  or  of  relations ;  and  the  animal  never  is  taught 
language,  no  matter  how  many  words  it  is  made  to  repeat, 
or  how  many  sounds  it  associates  directly  w^ith  concrete 
feelings  and  actions.  Without  the  demand  occasioned  for 
language  by  an  incipient  act  of  abstraction  of  some  sort, 
language  is  impossible,  and  with  this  demand  it  is  unavoid- 
able. Contemplate  things  solely  as  present  and  in  the  con- 
crete, and  the  senses  quite  suffice.* 

The  only  way  in  which  a  brute  does  show  intelligence 
is  in  action,  and  this  may  as  well  spring  from  associa- 
tion as  from  reflection.  The  utmost  efforts  of  instruction 
expended  by  man  on  animals,  even  wdien  it  has  reached  to 
the  mechanical  repetition  of  words,  has  only  secured  re- 
sults in  conduct  readily  referable  to  slow,  established,  and 
patiently  confirmed  associations,  the  varying  percej)tions  of 
the  animal  putting  it,  in  connection  with  accompanying 
pains  and  pleasures,  on  the  clue  of  the  behavior  designed 
for  it. 

*  For  a  fuller  discussion   see  Comparative  Psychology,  or  Growth 
and  Grades  of  Intelligence,  Chap,  VII. 


302  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

Moreover,  if  rational  ideas  are  conceded  to  the  brute, 
they  must  be  granted  in  a  more  powerful  and  perfect  form, 
rather  than  in  a  less  perfect  form  than  to  man.  The 
chicken,  the  young  of  many  animals,  almost  immediately 
begin  to  successfully  estimate  all  the  relations  of  objects  in 
space.  They  evince  more  mastery  over  them  at  the  end  of 
a  few  hours  or  days  than  does  the  child  at  the  close  of  as 
many  years.  If,  therefore,  any  judgments  intervene  in  this 
process ;  if  the  perceptions  do  not  directly,  by  an  immed- 
iate transfer  of  stimulus,  secure  and  guide  the  motion ;  if 
there  is  not  the  same  spontaneous  completeness  in  the  action 
of  the  mind  that  there  is  in  that  of  the  body,  what  a  mar- 
velous, unaccountable  rapidity  of  development  should  we 
have  here.  We  must  exalt  in  accuracy,  ease  and  celerity 
the  reflective  processes  of  the  animal  far  above  those  of 
man.  This  seems,  to  us  at  least,  a  rediictio  ad  absurdum. 
But,  if  the  sport  of  the  lamb,  its  leaping  and  running ;  if 
the  flight  of  the  bird,  and  the  ease  w^ith  which  it  hits  and 
rests  on  the  spray,  indicate  no  conscious  recognition  of 
space,  the  presumption  is  that  other  less  astonishing  powders 
have  no  basis  in  reasoning  or  in  intuition. 

We  object,  also — though  this  consideration  may  have 
little  weight  with  some  minds— to  the  character  which  this 
idea  of  reflection  ascribes  to  the  consciousness  of  the  brute. 
A  thoughtful  animal  would  be  one  of  the  most  unfortunate 
of  beings,  the  incubus  of  its  physical  structure  weighing 
down  its  destiny.  Eational  hope  and  fear  to  a  being  like 
this  would  be  an  unnecessary  and  cruel  source  of  suffering; 
nor  do  animals  often  show  apprehension  and  alarm  except 
in  the  immediate  presence  of  danger. 

But  it  will  be  said,  there  are  examples  of  sagacity  on 
the  part  of  animals  which  candor  forbids  us  to  refer  to 
association,  to  anything  short  of  reflection.  To  this  we 
answer,  these  examples  recpiire  more  searching  inquiry  as 


FACULTIES  OF  ANIMALS.  303 

to  their  exact  form  and  value  than  they  have  received,  as 
tlie  shades  of  action  that  distinguish  association  and  reflec- 
tion are  unobtrusive  and  delicate;  and  few  are  aware  of 
the  extent  of  results  easily  within  the  scope  of  association 
alone.     Farther,  we  are  not  considering  what  would  be  re- 
ferred in  man  to  reflection,  but  how  much  is  possible  to 
quick  perceptions,  strong  appetites,  and  a  ready  memory, 
when  they  are  left  to  act  alone,  and  are  not  therefore  su- 
perseded or  embarrassed  by  reasoning.     Says  the  writer  last 
quoted,  "•  It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  the  crow  has  a 
capacity  to  count  up  to  a  certain  number.     If  two  hunters 
enter  a  hut,  and  only  one  comes  out,  he  will  not  be  allured- 
near  the  place  by  any  bait,  however  tempting  ;  the  same 
will  be  the  case,  if  three  enter  and  two  come  out,  or  if  four 
enter   and  three   come   out,  and   so   on  till  a   number   is 
reached  which  is  beyond  his  arithmetic."     How  far  are  we 
to  give  credit  to  these  current  statements  is  very  uncertain, 
but  granting  their  accuracy,  they  do  not  require  for  their 
explanation  a  distinct  recognition  on  the  part  of  the  crow 
of  numbers,  a  conscious  subtraction  and  the  acceptance  of  a 
definite  remainder.     Concede  these,  and  the  sagacious  bird 
would  quickly  find  in  the  objective  teaching  of  the  rowed 
cornfields  before  him,  an  express  provision  for  a  grander 
arithmetical  procedure.     Within  narrow  limits,  groups  of 
two,  or  three,   or  four,   or   five  objects   are   directly    and 
readily  distinguishable  in  perception  aside  from   numera- 
tion ;  beyond  these  they  do  not  so  vary  the  impression  as 
to  make  the  difference  easily  observable.     Groups  of  twenty 
and    of    twenty-one  persons   will    hardly  be  distinguished 
by  a  stroke  of  the  eye.     Certain  separable  sensations,  there- 
fore, may  be  associated  in  the  experience  of  the  crow  with 
danger,  while  others  inseparable  have  made  no  such  impres- 
sion.    Let,  however,  one  of  the  twenty  men  always  remain, 
and  doubtless  the  crow  would  soon  attach  danger  to  this 


30i  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  INTELLECT. 

number  also,  and  the  pliilosophers  find  in  tlie  new  fact 
proof  of  a  growing  power  of  calculation.  The  crow  learns 
by  experience  to  fear  man,  that  is  to  connect  danger  with 
certain  perceptions.  In  rare  cases,  under  protracted  expe- 
rience and  varied  discipline,  he  might  carry  this  association 
two  steps  farther,  to  three  definite,  closely  united  im]3res- 
sions ;  a  hut,  the  entrance  of  three,  the  departure  of  two. 
This  experience,  provoking  alarm  in  him,  would  extend  by 
admonition  to  others,  and  w^ould  at  once  receive  the  inter- 
pretation above  given.  We  find  it  very  difficult  not  to  at- 
tribute to  such  actions  the  same  degree  of  thought  and  in- 
telligence which  would  be  indicated  by  them  in  us.  Yet 
this  tendency  should  be  easily  overcome,  when  we  remem- 
ber that  we  are  compelled  to  cover  up  by  the  word  instinct 
actions  which  in  man  would  show  the  most  wonderful 
knowledge  and  skill.  It  is  certainly  no  very  strange  thing, 
that  three  perceptions  should,  in  the  ready  memory  of  a 
crow,  alert  and  watchful,  by  life-long  instinct  and  habit 
directing  its  attention  to  like  facts,  find  at  length  a  fixed 
association  with  danger. 

It  is  narrated,  that  a  raven  hit  upon  this  method  of  de- 
frauding a  dog  of  a  portion  of  his  dinner.  The  raven  would 
approach  so  near  and  so  annoy ingly  as  to  provoke  pursuit. 
This  pursuit  would  draw  the  dog  from  the  dish,  and  the 
raven,  quick  of  wing,  would  immediately  rise  and  pounce 
down  on  the  unguarded  meal.  Observe  how  easily  such  a 
series  of  associations  would  be  formed,  the  acts  constituting 
it  finding  union  and  undesigned  repetition  in  experience  till 
they  became  a  habit  apparently  shaped  on  a  rational  pur- 
pose. Impelled  by  hunger,  the  raven  would  naturally  ap- 
proach the  dog  as  near  as  he  dare  venture ;  the  dog  as  na- 
turally would  resent  the  intrusion.  The  raven,  pressed  by 
pursuit,  and  rising  on  the  wing,  would  see  the  unprotected 
dish,  and  at  once  pluck  a  portion  of  the  coveted  food.    This 


FACULTIES  OF  ANIMALS.  305 

process  would  repeat  itself  a  second  and  a  third  time,  till, 
connected  with  the  desired  result,  it  would  become  direct 
and  constant.  What  shall  be  said  of  the  reasoning  of  the 
dog  who  repeatedly  suffered  from  such  a  form  of  depreda- 
tion ?  It  matters  little  whether  the  above  instances  are  true, 
others  like  tliem  are  true,  and  admit  of  similar  explanation. 
The  fear  and  caution  of  a  dog  when  he  has  committed  an 
offence,  the  cunning  and  skill  of  a  fox,  the  pliancy  of  a 
horse,  are  not  surprising,  w^hen  we  consider  their  quick 
senses,  sharp  appetites,  retentive  memories,  protracted, 
varied,  and  severely  enforced  experience,  and  inherited  ten- 
dencies. Knowledge,  moreover,  is  communicable  between 
animals  by  inheritance  and  by  transfer.  The  obedience, 
docility  and  training  of  the  horse  are  readily  imparted  to 
his  yoke-fellow,  and  the  fear  and  sagacity  of  a  fox  help  to 
awaken  like  qualities  in  his  companion. 

The  practical  value  of  the  above  conclusions  is  very 
great,  in  teaching  us  how  to  handle,  and  how  to  estimate, 
brute  life ;  and  still  more  in  establishing  a  fitting  barrier 
between  it  and  rational  life.  If  this  difference  exists  be- 
tween them,  then  is  man  unapproachable  by  the  animal. 
He  stands  on  another  platform  of  being.  It  is  not  an  acci- 
dent of  physical  structure,  the  absence  of  language,  less 
fortunate  or  less  protracted  development,  that  divide  the 
two ;  but  entirely  new  endowments,  bringing  with  them  a 
new  and  exalted  sphere  of  being.  Man  shares  conscious- 
ness, a  perception  and  retention  of  external  events,  with 
the  animal ;  but  not  his  intuitions  of  the  invisible,  nor  his 
rational  apprehension  and  government  of  action,  nor  his 
moral  and  spiritual  endowments. 


BOOK   II. 

§  1.  We  have  now  reached  the  second  class  of  mental 
phenomena,  that  of  the  feelings.  These  have  received  less 
attention  tlian  the  intellectual  faculties.  They  are  far  more 
numerous  and  complicated,  and  have  been  more  recently 
regarded  as  a  distinct  division.  The  three  classes,  recog- 
nized by  Kant,  have  since  his  day  been  generally  accepted. 
Knowing,  feeling,  and  willing,  are  each  forms  of  action  so 
simple,  that  it  is  easier  to  perceive,  than  to  state  their  dif- 
ferences. Indeed,  expository  definition  of  each  is  impossi- 
ble in  other  than  synonymous  terms.  Each  is  known  and 
only  fully  known  by  experience.  There  are,  however,  cer- 
tain diverse  relations  of  these  several  acts,  or  states  of  mind 
that  may  be  pointed  out. 

Though  the  feelings  were  late  in  receiving  attention  as 
a  distinct  portion  of  our  mental  endowments,  popular  lan- 
guage has  so  far  severed  them  from  our  thoughts,  as  to  re- 
fer them  to  a  separate  part  of  our  nature.  It  is  a  method 
of  expression  still  somewhat  unusual  to  common  speech, 
to  talk  of  the  emotions  of  the  mind ;  we  more  frequently 
hear  the  words,  the  sentiments,  the  emotions,  the  feelings 
of  the  heart. 

A  first  distinction  to  be  marked  between  knowing  and 
feeling  is  that  one  proceeds  under  a  double,  the  other  under 
a  single  form.  The  thought  and  the  object  of  the  thought 
lie  in  the  mind,  distinguishable  parts  of  one  process ;  while 
the  feeling  is  a  simple  mental  state.  This  has  been  ex- 
pressed by  saying,  that  the  processes  of  thought  are  more 
objective,  those  of  fejling  more  subjective.     This  language. 


DISTINCTION  BETWEEN  FEELING  ANI>  THOUGHT.  307 

however,  seems  not  quite  explicit.     In  one  point  of  view, 
the  feeling  is  more  objective  than  the  thought.     To  be  sure 
the  thought  attaches  itself  necessarily  and  distinctly  to  an 
object,  but  that  object  itself  becomes  a  subjective  one,  some- 
thing grasped  and  held  by  the  mind  as  an  object  of  contem- 
plation, so  that  the  entire  movement  maintains  a  subjective 
character.     On   the   other  hand,  a  feeling  is  often   occa- 
sioned by  an  action  or  an  object  external  to  the  mind,  un- 
der whose  influence  the  emotion  is  suffered.     This  object, 
in   connection  with   our    stronger   and  more   well-defined 
feelings,  evokes  especial  consideration,  is  seduously  sought 
after  or  avoided,  and  thus  imparts  a  peculiarly  objective 
turn  or  tendency  to  emotion.     Take  such  passions  as  love  or 
hatred,  such  sentiments  as  admiration  and  contempt ;  con- 
sider the  appetites  and  the  desires,  how  objective  are  they 
in  the  frame  of  mind  and  cast  of  action  they  produce.     In- 
deed, the  first  condition  of  contemplation,  a  quiet,  subjec- 
tive handling  of  a  topic  is,  that  the  feelings  be  hushed,  that 
these  restless  children  of  the  household  be  put  to  sleep,  and 
the  thoughts  be  left  to  move  uninterruptedly  within  their 
own   circle.      On  account  of   this  ambiguity  of  the  word 
subjective,    and   the   marked  external  tendency   given   by 
feeling  to  action,  we  prefer  to  speak  of  thought  as  bi-jyartite 
and   feeling   as  simple.      Neither  method  of  presentation 
holds  equally  w^ell  in  all  forms  of  the  phenomena  concerned. 
Sensation  most  distinctly  separates  itself   from  perception 
by  its  more  definite  and  local  action  in  the  organ  involved. 
In  speaking  of  a  feeling  as  subjective,  reference  must  be 
had  to  the  emotion  itself,  and  not  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  object  which  may  call  it  out. 

A  second  diversity  in  thinking  and  feeling  is  found  in 
their  dependence  on  volition  ;  the  former  is  more,  the  lat- 
ter less  immediately  the  result  of  voluntary  effort.  The 
thoughts  are  more  directly  reached  and  guided  by  the  will 


308  THE  FEELINGS. 

than  are  the  feelings.  Indeed  the  most  of  these  are  so 
occasioned  bj  the  immediate  and  unavoidable  presence  of 
external  conditions,  that  it  is  only  indirectly  and  with  con- 
siderable delay  that  volition  can  reach  and  modify  them. 
Our  thoughts,  our  subjects  of  reflection  are  the  primary 
objects  of  volition,  while  the  feelings  are  slowly  changed 
with  a  change  in  their  physical  and  intellectual  conditions. 

While  the  thoughts  are  more  directly  subject  to  the  will 
than  the  emotions,  the  emotions  more  immediately  influ- 
ence the  will  than  do  the  thoughts.  Here  is  found  a  third 
difference  of  relation.  The  state  of  feeling  is  the  direct 
ground  and  occasion  of  choice,  while  our  opinions  govern 
the  will  only  as  they  first  govern  the  heart. 

The  only  opportunity  of  confounding  knowing  and  feel- 
ing seems  to  arise  from  their  common  relation  to  conscious- 
ness.    We  express  the  fact  that  our  feelings,  as  our  own, 
are  present  to  the  mind  by  the  language,  I  know  that  I 
feel,  I  know  that  I  am  angry,  I  know  that  I  have  sympa- 
thy with  the  suffering.     We  thus  seem  to  underlay  feeling 
with  knowing  as  if  the  one  were  but  a  peculiar  form  of  the 
other.     The  same  reasoning,  however,  would  apply  to  vo- 
lition, and  the  difficulty  springs  only  from  the  defect  of 
language.     We  express  the  simple  and  single  fact  of  a  feel- 
ing under  the  form  of  a  double  act,  one  branch  of  which  is 
an  emotion,  and  the  other  a  cognition.     A  better  analysis 
has  enabled  us  to  see  that  the  expression,  I  know  that  I 
feel,  no  more  implies  a  double  act  than  the  kindred  asser- 
tion,  I  know  that  I  know.     An  act  of  knowing  is  distin- 
guished from  one  of  feeling  or  of  volition  in  involving  a 
disclosure  of  something  beyond  itself.     The  three,  in  in- 
volving consciousness,  stand  on  common  ground.     Herein 
is  the  hi-partite  character  of  knowing  apparent.     A  percep- 
tion that  encloses  no  judgments  is  undistinguisliable  from  a 
sensation. 


DIVISIONS.  309 

§  2.  The  feelings  may  be  divided  bj  their  intrinsic 
character,  or  by  the  objects  or  conditions  which  draw  them 
forth.  The  first  would  seem  the  more  just  ground  of  dis- 
tinction, yet  the  second  finds  easier  application,  and  closely 
allies  itself  to  the  first,  since  different  grounds  give  differ- 
ent emotions.  Our  first  division  into  i^hysical,  intellectual 
and  spiritual  feelings  proceeds  on  the  conditions  or  occa- 
sions on  which  they  are  respectively  called  forth.  The 
physical  feelings  are  located  in  the  body,  have  a  physical 
source,  and  pertain  to  the  states  of  physical  organs.  The 
intellectual  feelings  arise  in  connection  with  the  judgments 
of  the  mind.  It  is  the  perceived  relations  in  which  we 
stand  to  objects  about  us,  and  especially  to  other  men, 
which  call  forth  these  emotions.  Their  ground  then  is  an 
intellectual  one ;  since  if  we  w^ere  destitute  of  thought, 
forethought,  if  we  could  form  no  conclusions  concerning 
the  effect  of  things,  their  approach  or.  their  possession,  the 
effect  of  the  actions  and  character  of  others  upon  ourselves, 
we  should  be  left  destitute  of  these  feelings,  and  only  sub- 
ject to  the  immediate  play  of  physical  forces  upon  us. 

The  third  class  of  feelings  is  the  spiritual.  The  word 
spiritual  is  not  so  definite  as  the  other  two.  We  employ  it 
to  designate  the  highest  portion  of  our  nature,  that  by 
which  we  have  a  rational  and  responsible  life  as  opposed 
to  a  merely  intellectual  one.  ]^ow  it  is  our  intuitions,  more 
particularly  a  limited  portion  of  them,  which  confer  these 
higher  powers,  and  put  us  in  these  higher  relations.  The 
sentiments  elicited  by  these  more  profound  revelations,  this 
deeper  insight  into  the  rational  world,  the  truly  spiritual 
world,  are  the  spiritual  feelings.  More  concisely,  Ihe  spir- 
itual feelings  are  those  immediately  conditioned  on  the  in- 
tuitions. 

Of  these  several  classes,  the  first  may  belong  in  feeble 
form  to   the  lowest  animal   life,  and  in  full  form  to  the 


310  THE  FEELINGS. 

liighest.     The  second  belongs  chiefly  to  man,  though  in  a 
few  of  the  nobler  animals,  it  finds  partial  presentation  in 
connection  with  the  tacit  anticipations,  the  informal  con- 
clusions of  association.     The  dog  does,  tlirough  the  educa- 
tion of  a  retentive  memory,  permanently  interlock  what,  for 
want   of   another  word,  we  must  call  conceptions,  and  is, 
therefore,  ready  for  the  feeling  of  joy  or  fear  in  view  of 
anticipated  results.     Yet,  in  fullness  and  variety,  these  emo- 
tions do  not  compare  in  the  most  sagacious  brute  with  the 
corresponding  class  of  feelings  in  man.     Indeed,  much  that 
we  regard  of  this  character  in  the  animals  below  us,  is  but 
the  false,  the  flattering  interpretation  which  we  bring  from 
consciousness  for  the  explanation  of  acts,  in  their  external 
form  alone,  like  ours.     The  dog  licks  the  hand  of  his  mas- 
ter, and  that  master  conceives  it,  not  as  the  act  of  a  blind, 
instinctive  fellowship,  worth  intellectually  no  more  than  the 
good- will  of  the  cow  that  cards  with  her  rough  tongue  the 
hide  of  her  gratified  companion,  but  as  a  distinct  expression 
of  a  clearly  defined  attachment.     The  third  class,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  belongs  exclusively  to  man,  and,  in  its 
full  forms,  to  the  cultivated,  the  developed  man, — one  who 
has  been  ripened  out  of  physical  sensations,  out  of  the  half- 
way ground  of  the  simple  connections  of  thought  into  the 
habitual  and  active  play  of  his  intuitive  powers. 

Tlie  words  by  which  we  designate  the  emotions  are,  for 
the  most  part,  very  loose  in  their  application.  Of  these 
the  word  feeling  is  the  most  general.  It  ranges  througli 
the  three  classes.  Tlie  pains  and  pleasures  of  the  body  are 
feelings  ;  equally  so  are  the  fears  and  hopes  of  the  prudent, 
the  delights  of  the  artist,  and  the  satisfaction  of  one  obe- 
dient to  moral  truth.  The  word  emotion,  is  applicable  to 
the  feelings  of  the  two  higher  classes,  hardly  to  those  of 
the  lower ;  while  the  word  sentiment  finds  at  leasts  its 
fullest  meaning  in  tlie  third  class  only.     We  designate  as 


DIVISIONS.  311 

sensations,  physical  feelings  exclusively ;  as  passions,  intel- 
lectual feelings  exclusively,— though  only  a  part  of  them 
reach  the  intensity  indicated  by  the  term ;— and  as  affec- 
tions, the  higher,  the  moral  emotions  exclusively.  That, 
however,  which  is  especially  confusing  in  the  language  of 
the  emotions,  is  the  different  states  included  under  one 
word,  for  instance,  love.  "We  love  the  food  that  pleases  us, 
we  love  the  wealth  that  gratifies  desire,  the  scenery  that 
delights  the  taste,  the  person  whose  character  meets  the  ap- 
proval of  our  moral  sense.  We  have  occasion,  therefore,  to 
put  feelings  covered  by  the  same  word,  into  entirely  dis- 
tinct classes,  and  to  regard  love  as  an  appetite,  a  passion,  or 
an  affection,  according  to  its  several  objects.  The  word 
now  shows  a  decided  tendency  to  withdraw  from  the  lower 
field,  and  take  up  its  abode  in  the  higher  one. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

The  Physical  Feelings, 

§  1.  The  physical  feelings  are  distinguished  from  others 
by  arising  directly  from  the  body.  They  have  a  physical 
source  and  locality  somewhere  in  the  body,  or,  like  nervous 
debility,  are  diffused  through  it.  They  are  divisible  as  re- 
gards general  quality,  into  pleasurable,  indifferent  and 
painful  feelings.  By  indifferent  feelings  we  do  not  mean 
complex  states  of  mingled  pain  and  pleasure,  but  states  de- 
clared to  consciousness,  but  neither  as  yet  agreeable  or  dis- 
agreeable. The  three  divisions,  if  we  look  at  them  in  ref- 
erence to  action,  may  be  termed  the  stimulative,  the  indic- 
ative and  the  repressive  feelings.  The  condition  of  cer- 
tain organs  indicates  a  preparation,  or  w^ant  of  preparation 
for  activity.  Thus  an  appetite  gently  aroused  prepares  the 
way  for  indulgence.  Simply  as  an  appetitive  movement, 
as  yet  neither  balked  nor  gratified,  it  is  hardly  an  occasion 
of  pain  or  pleasure,  but  merely  gives  suggestion  of  a  line  of 
gratification. 

As  we  begin  to  indulge  the  appetite,  a  sensible,  declared 
pleasure  sets  in,  stimulating  farther  indulgence,  and  this 
continues  till  the  present  power  of  the  sensibility  is  ex- 
pended. Then  a  second  indifferent  or  indicative  feeling 
succeeds,  dissuading,  without  pain,  from  further  indulgence. 
If  this  limit,  however,  be  over-passed,  positive  discomfort 
follows,  decidedly  repressing  activity.  These  three  states 
may  be  regarded  as  a  series  of  alternating  cycles  through 
wliich  the  physical  feelings  tend  to  move,  and  in  one  or 
other  of  which,  when  active,  they  remain  for  the  time  being. 


GENERAL  SENS  A  TIONS.  3 1 3 

There  is  a  farther  connection  between  the  three  states  in 
the  fact  that  they  arise  snccessively  in  one  organ  or  set  of 
organs. 

§  2.  The  earliest  of  these  physical  feelings  are  general 
sensations.  These  may  arise  either  from  conditions  which 
affect  the  body  extendcdly,  as  those  which  occasion  lassitude 
and  unusual  vigor,  or  the  sense  of  pressure,  or  of  heat  and 
of  cold,  or  of  numbness ;  or  they  may  indicate  the  condition 
of  some  one  organ  or  set  of  organs,  as  nausea,  tooth-ache,  or 
irritation  in  the  eye.  This  class  of  feelings  it  is  not  easy 
to  enumerate.  Some  of  them  approach  in  character  very 
closely  the  special  senses,  while  others  appear  but  rarely, 
and  subserve  a  very  limited  purpose.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
organ,  or  portion  of  the  human  body,  which  may  not  be- 
come the  seat  of  a  peculiar  feeling,  more  especially  a  pain- 
ful feeling,  indicating  difficulty  and  demanding  relief.  As 
a  class,  the  sensations  which  disclose  states  have  more  fre- 
quent reference  to  some  repression  or  modification  of  action 
than  to  its  excitation;  and  present  themselves  under  the 
form  of  suffering  instead  of  enjoyment.  The  reverse  is, 
however,  many  times  true.  Buoyant  life  declares  itself  in 
physical  impulses,  at  first  obscure,  but  leading  when  fully 
developed  to  the  intense  pleasure  of  sportive  action.  Kg- 
dundant  power  tends  to  explosive  efforts  and.  renders  such 
exertion  very  enjoyable. 

Feelings  which  indicate  states  of  the  body  or  of  its 
special  organs  are  for  the  most  part  present  only  as  they 
tend  directly  to  affect  action,  and  through  the  will  to  se- 
cure either  exertion,  repression,  or  changed  conditions.  The 
stimuli  that  regulate  involuntary  action  do  not  usually 
come  into  consciousness.  Respiration,  in  its  safe  and  meas- 
ured movement,  is  secured  by  nerves  and  muscles  that  act 
and  react  on  each  other  automatically,  with  no  direct  cogni- 
tion of  the  mind.     Let,  however,  some  unusual  state  arise  ; 


314  THE  PHYSICAL  FEELINGS. 

let  the  air  be  restricted,  or  become  very  impure,  and  dis- 
tinct sensations  follow,  provoking  in  extreme  cases  the  most 
violent  exertion.  The  larger  portion,  then,  of  those  sensa- 
tions which  spring  from  some  unusual  condition  of  our  phys- 
ical organs,  are  present  to  indicate  a  line  of  action ;  at  least 
to  compel  inquiry,  and  set  the  reflective  powers  to  the  work 
of  guidance  and  correction.  Thus  are  the  nature  and  limits 
of  the  physical,  physiological  laws  under  which  we  live  de- 
clared to  us  ;  the  times  of  activity  and  repose,  the  forms  and 
bounds  of  indulgence,  and  the  necessity  of  remedial  meas- 
ures. As  most  diseases  find  their  true  remedy  in  some  form 
of  rest  or  of  restraint,  we  see  that  the  pains  which  indicate 
them  are  not  only  directly  repressive  of  eifort,  but  indirectly 
also  through  the  increased  advantage  which  arises  from  an 
appetite  denied,  from  labor  laid  aside.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  power  to  do  begets  corresponding  effort,  and  is  rewarded 
with  a  pleasure  which  in  turn  stimulates  the  body  through 
the  mind,  and  tends  to  make  the  exertion  nutritive  of  the 
faculties  to  which  it  belongs.  We  cannot  go  to  the  extent 
of  the  view  presented  by  Bain,  which  makes  pleasure  and 
pain  automatic,  the  one  stimulating,  the  other  arresting 
action,  much  like  the  opening  and  closing  dampers  of  a 
steam-engine.  Such  direct  effects  they  frequently  have,  but 
more  often  they  incite  or  correct  action  through  the  inter- 
vention of  thought  and  volition.  Indeed  pain  may  momen- 
tarily quicken  action,  and  pleasure  may  ultimately  exhaust 
the  strength,  and  so  slacken  effort.  The  sensations  stand 
in  too  living,  too  complex  a  relation  to  our  vital,  intellectual 
and  voluntary  powers  to  submit  easily  all  tlieir  relations  to 
a  single  statement.  Pleasure  and  pain  alike  exhaust  power, 
but  the  one  with,  the  other  without  compensation.  An 
half-hour  of  intense  suffering  takes  away  not  simply  the 
strength, — play  would  have  done  this  in  part — but  leaves  the 
nutritive  powers  depressed.    The  exertion  of  enjoyment,  on 


SPECIAL  SENSATIONS.  315 

the  other  hand,  while  exj)ending  the  present  store  of  power, 
re-acts  favorably  on  the  vital  forces.  Intense  pleasnre  at 
its  consummation  trembles  on  the  verge  of  pain,  and  in- 
tense pain,  when  not  ntterly  exhaustive,  passes  back  at  its 
expiration  into  intense  pleasure,  occasioned  partly  by  con- 
trast, and  partly  by  the  flowing  in  again  of  vital  power  to  its 
normal  channels. 

Spencer's  assertion  that  "Every  pleasure  increases  vital- 
ity, and  every  pain  decreases  vitality  "  *  is  also  too  sweep- 
ing. Both  pains  and  pleasures  may  tax  vitality ;  both  may 
be  remedial ;  and  both,  may  be  unfortunate.  This  relation 
to  vitality  does  not  explain  the  peculiar  character  either 
of  pains  or  pleasures,  nor  exhaust  their  intellectual  offices. 

§  3.  The  second  source  of  distinct  j^hysical  feelings  are 
the  special  senses,  the  organs  of  sensation.  The  chief  of 
these,  at  once  recognizable,  are  touch,  taste  and  smell.  Sen- 
sations and  perceptions  should  be  distinguished,  and  these 
classed  with  cognitions,  and  those  with  feelings.  Percep- 
tions have  with  some  clearness  a  hi-partite  character ;  the 
object  and  the  action  directed  towards  it  at  once  appear. 
The  seeing,  and  the  object  seen,  are  necessary  complements 
to  each  other;  w^hereas  by  taste  and  smell  we  only  indi- 
rectly and  inferentially  reach  the  source,  given  under  an- 
other sense,  that  of  sight.  Evidently  in  sensation,  we  are 
engaged  with  the  feeling  ;  in  perception,  wdth  the  source  of 
the  impression.  Perceptions  also  differ  from  sensations  in 
having  so  little  of  a  declared  local  character,  that,  though 
physical  in  their  sources,  they  no  more  reveal  their  physical 
connections  than  does  pure  thought.  Sensations,  on  the 
contrary,  disclose  themselves  as  a  certain  peculiar  state  of  a 
given  organ,  and  are  therefore  to  be  ranked  as  feelings.  Of 
all  the  senses,  touch  occupies  the  most  intermediate  ground; 
while  its  phenomena  ordinarily  present  the  phases  of  feeh- 

*  Data  of  Ethics,  p.  87. 


316  THE  PHYSICAL  FEELINGS. 

ing,  it  may  in  the  absence  of  tlie  higher  senses  of  sight,  of 
hearing,  become  so  far  intellectual  as  scarcely  to  direct  at- 
tention to  the  sensation.  It  thus  becomes  the  unobserved 
medium  of  knowledge,  the  matter  revealed  being  tlie  only 
object  obviously  before  the  mind.  Any  sensation  may  be 
the  occasion  of  a  judgment,  bearing  the  mind  outward  to  a 
particular  object ;  the  peculiarity  of  touch  is,  that  often  by 
habitual  use  for  this  end,  the  sensational  element  is  lost 
sight  of,  sinks  from  observation,  and  the  perceptive  ele- 
ment rises  in  its  place,  making  this  ordinarily  over-shad- 
owed sense  a  not  inefficient  substitute  for  siorht. 

These  special  senses,  all  of  them,  stand  closely  connected 
with  the  intellect,  and  have  thus  been  more  frequently 
united  with  the  organs  of  perception,  and  fallen  into  the 
first  class  of  mental  powers.  The  distinction  now  made 
seems,  however,  fore-shadowed  in  the  physical  fact,  that 
the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  are  so  immediately  con- 
nected with  the  cerebrum,  the  seat  and  instrument  of 
thought,  that  a  removal  of  this  destroys  them,  though  leav- 
ing the  other  senses  unimpared.  Touch,  taste  and  smell, 
however,  while  primarily  feelings,  are  used  constantly  as 
means  of  discrimination  and  guides  to  action.  Tliey  very 
frequently  draw  after  them  conclusions,  set  in  motion  the 
judgment,  and  thus  return  on  the  will  through  the  media- 
tion of  tlie  mind.  This  is  the  ordinary  action  of  a  pure, 
well-defined,  special  sensation.  Taste  may  be  so  pungent 
or  so  nauseating  as  to  produce  a  direct,  involuntary  action 
of  ejection ;  but  odors  and  flavors  are  usually,  in  their  ef- 
fects on  action,  simply  grounds  of  discrimination  by  which 
we  are  guided  in  accepting  or  rejecting  the  object  before 
us,  in  assigning  it  a  definite  position  among  the  things  used 
by  us.  Our  sensations  thus  start  from  the  central,  the  per- 
ceptive, the  indicative  point,  and  then  become  either  stimu- 
lative or  repressive,  according  to  their  nature. 


APPETITES. 

Sensations  are  also  three-fold  in  their  relations  to  enjoj-r 
ments.  From  the  midway  ground  of  indifference,  they  pass 
into  pain  and  pleasure.  Their  double  office  is  here  again 
very  obvious.  They  are  means  of  independent  gratiiica- 
tion  as  well  as  of  guidance.  They  are  sources  of  abundant 
physical  pleasure,  and  find  a  primary  purpose  in  this  their 
direct  character  as  feelings.  In  this  connection,  the/  act 
more  immediately  on  the  executive  powers,  stimulating 
the  effort  necessary  for  their  gratification,  and  checking  any 
movement  that  gives  rise  to  pain.  Sensations  then,  are 
in  a  double  sense  stimulative  by  their  direct  character  as 
feelings,  by  their  indicative  character,  revealing  to  the  intel- 
lect the  nature  of  the  objects  about  it.  It  is,  however,  in 
the  first  aspect  alone,  that  they  can  be  divided,  as  feelings, 
into  the  three  classes,  stimulative,  indicative  and  repressive. 
Those  sensations  are  chiefly  indicative  which,  in  reference 
to  pleasure  or  pain,  are  indifferent.  Things  inimical,  de- 
termined chiefly  by  the  eye  and  ear,  are  recognized  in  part 
by  touch,  and  sometimes  by  taste  and  odor.  This  discrim- 
inative use  of  the  senses  is  an  acquired  one,  and  lies  apart 
from  the  purpose  which  they  subserve  with  all  as  avenues 
of  enjoyment.  Thus  their  perceptive  and  sensitive  uses 
show  a  tendency  to  separation  and  mutual  exclusion. 

§  4.  A  third  distinct  class  of  sensations  are  the  appe- 
tites. These  are  closely  united  to  those  indicative  feelings 
which  declare  the  condition  of  an  organ.  They  differ  from 
these  only  in  being  more  special,  returning  ^N\i\\  regularity, 
and  performing  a  constant  and  fixed  service  in  the  animal 
economy.  The  appetites  are  specialized  and  regularly  re- 
turning pliysical  feelings  demanding  a  specific  act  of  gratifi- 
cation. Both  in  the  special  senses  and  appetites,  there  are  a 
definiteness  and  constancy  of  purpose,  not  found  in  general 
action,  as  w^ell  as  a  source  of  ever  returning  pleasure,  almost 
independent  of  effort.     While  the  senses  are  specialized  to 


318  THE  PHYSICAL  FEELINGS. 

indicate  external  relations,  the  appetites  are  specialized  to 
disclose  internal  states.  Indeed,  the  appetite  for  food,  as  a 
means  of  enjo3anent,  so  closely  unites  itself  witli  taste  and 
odor,  as  to  yield  with  them  a  compound  gratification  inca- 
pable of  practical  analysis.  The  return  in  most  of  the  ap- 
petites is  at  measured  intervals;  in  others  the  spaces  are 
more  irregular.  According  to  this  definition,  the  desire  for 
sleep  is  an  appetite.  Hunger  and  thirst  are  impulses  recur- 
ring more  fixedly  ;  sexual  appetite,  one  that  is  renewed  less 
certainly. 

An  appetite  in  its  first  action,  as  yet  neither  gratified 
nor  denied,  is  indicative  ;  and  indifferent  as  regards  pleas- 
ure and  pain.  It  is,  indeed,  the  condition  of  the  pleasure 
which  is  to  arise  from  indulgence,  but  is  itself  hardly  either 
a  distinct  enjoyment  or  a  declared  annoyance.  One  or 
other  of  these,  however,  it  quickly  becomes,  according  as 
its  intimations  are  accepted  or  withstood. 

Different  appetites  may  be  suppressed  and  modified  with 
very  different  degrees  of  success,  according  to  the  purpose 
they  subserve  in  our  physical  constitution.  One  is  as  im- 
perative as  the  w^ants  it  indicates  ;  another  is,  in  the  posi- 
tion it  holds,  very  much  the  product  of  intellectual  and 
moral  forces.  The  appetites  are  physical  indications  and 
guides  of  action,  and,  in  their  healthy  indulgence,  uniformly 
give  pleasure  ;  in  their  denial,  or  excessive  indulgence,  as 
uniformly  inflict  pain.  The  pleasures  and  pains  which 
accompany  them  are,  carefully  watched  and  collated,  safe 
guides  of  action.  They  are,  nevertheless,  far  from  being 
sufficient,  automatic  forces,  securing  the  results  of  physical 
well-being.  AYhile  they  are  at  first  direct  stimulants  and 
i)nmediate  restraints,  they  are  chiefly,  in  the  human  consti- 
tution, operative  through  a  wise  election  and  pursuit  of 
pleasure,  a  sagacious  avoidance  of  evil.  The  brute  and  the 
rational  constitution  seem  to  show  an  important  distinction 


OFFICES  OF  SENSATIONS.  319 

at  this  point ;  the  one  is  wholly  automatic  in  the  restraint 
and  control  of  appetite ;  the  other  leaves  the  checks  chiefly 
to  reason. 

The  purposes  served  by  our  sensations  are  various,  fre- 
quently co-existent,  and  always  concurrent.  Of  this,  the 
special  senses,  the  appetites  and  the  feelings  which  accom- 
pany the  active  powers,  are  examples.  A  large  circle  of 
enjoyments  are  through  them  added  to  our  physical  organ- 
ism, and  a  pleasurable  life  provided  for.  Immediately  con- 
nected with  this  is  a  second  purpose.  A  direct,  physical 
stimulus  is,  through  these  feelings,  administered  to  that  nu- 
tritive and  muscular  action  on  which  the  well-being  of  the 
body  depends.  Pain  abates,  pleasure  promotes  effort.  The 
one  exhausts,  the  other  stimulates,  and,  within  certain  limits 
helps  to  renew  the  strength  by  which  it  is  fed. 

A  third  purpose  of  our  sensations  is  found  in  the  knowl- 
edge, otherwise  unattainable,  which  they  impart  of  the  states 
of  the  body,  the  conditions  and  demands  of  its  several  or- 
gans. They  thus  become  tlie  basis  of  that  reasoning  by 
wdiich  we  adjust  action,  food  and  remedial  agents  to  our 
real  wants;  make  an  intelligent  provision,  and  lay  down 
wise  precepts,  for  our  immediate  and  future  well-being.  A 
fourth  and  somewhat  more  remote  ministration  of  our  sen- 
sations is  to  general  knowledge.  Through  them,  we  come 
in  contact  in  a  new  way  with  surrounding  objects,  take  cog- 
nizance of  a  different  set  of  qualities,  and  thus  make  more 
complete  and  perfect  our  classifications.  There  is  a  tend- 
ency, in  thus  making  our  sensations  means  of  intellectual 
discrimination,  somewhat  to  abate  their  force  and  character 
as  feelings.     Of  this,  we  have  sufficiently  spoken. 

The  relation  of  the  physical  feelings  to  health  and  activ- 
ity is  easily  seen.  Unimpeded  activity  is  pleasurable,  but 
the  seat,  the  source  of  pleasure,  is  found  in  an  original 
conformation  of  the  physical  man  ;  as  much  so,  we  appre- 


320  THE  PHYSICAL  FEELINGS. 

liend,  as  tlie  enjoyment  of  a  fragrant  rose  in  tlie  peculiar 
power  of  tlie  special  sense  of  smell.  AVe  are  not  to  sup- 
pose that  we  have  explained  either  pleasure  or  pain  by  re- 
ferring them  respectively  to  unrestrained,  and  to  impeded 
activity.  We  are  able  to  give  some  of  the  conditions,  and 
some  of  the  consequences  of  pliysical  sensations,  but  their 
immediate  causes  in  the  organs  themselves,  and  in  the  mind, 
we  cannot  give.  The  last  and  exhaustive  analysis  we  can 
not  make.  A  feeling  as  a  feeling  is  ultimately  and,  shall 
we  not  say,  sufficiently  known  in  itself. 

Before  passing  to  the  intellectual  feelings,  we  mark 
some  border  facts  which  prepare  the  way  for  the  transition. 

What  are  termed  natural  affections,  are  examples  of 
transition  facts.  We  suppose  these  words  strictly  employed 
to  designate  feelings  aroused  by  physical  facts,  physical 
ties ;  not  intellectually  considered,  but  sensationally  exper- 
ienced. There  seems  to  be  a  small  remainder  of  such  af- 
fections in  man,  but  they  are  so  lost  in  the  higher  feelings, 
stirred  by  the  same  facts  intellectually  considered,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  separate  them.  Tlie  animal  is,  for  a  time,  pas- 
sionately attached  to  its  young.  These  affections  seem  to 
follow  in  a  direct,  physical  way  from  the  sensations  pres- 
ent. The  helplessness  of  the  young  apparently  forms  no 
ground  of  the  emotion.  The  young  of  another  animal  may 
become  the  object  of  immediate  and  bitter  attack.  The 
substitution  of  another  offspring  for  its  own  is  successful 
only  when  the  perceptive  instincts  of  the  parent  are  baffled 
and  misled.  Something  of  this  direct  attachment  seems  to 
appear  in  the  human  parent,  though  it  is  so  overlain  and 
modified  by  feelings  of  a  purely  intellectual  character  as  to 
play  no  very  important  part  in  our  constitution.  Doubtless 
the  tenderness  of  the  mother  does  owe  something  of  its 
quick,  yearning,  responsive  action  under  the  claims  of  the 
infant  t    the  purely  physical  conditions  of  the  relationship. 


TRANSITIONAL  FACTS.  321 

Irrit/ability,  wliich  is  ofteu  a  physical  state,  and  may  al- 
ways be  more  or  less  due  to  physical  conditions,  neverthe- 
less does  much  to  determine  the  character  of  the  conceptions 
present  to  the  mind.  There  are  inseparably  mixed  with 
their  intellectual  causes,  immediate  physical  conditions, 
which  often  make  them  in  degree,  if  not  in  kind,  what  they 
w^ould  not  otherwise  be.  The  force  of  the  emotions,  and 
the  fact  of  their  presence  are  often  determined  by  physical 
states. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

The  Intellectual  Feeling fi. 

%  1.  The  intellectual  are  distinguished  from  the  physi- 
cal feelings  by  the  fact  of  their  de2)endence  on  objects  and 
relations  presented  to  the  mind,  and  thus,  in  a  secondary 
way,  influencing  the  emotions.  The  sharp  tlirust  of  a 
weapon  brings  instantaneous  pain  ;  the  abuse  of  an  enemy 
arouses  anger  only  as  it  is  understood  and  mentally  con- 
templated. These  feelings  may  also  be  divided,  as  regards 
emotional  character,  into  ]3leasurable,  indifferent  and  pain- 
ful ;  and  as  regards  their  relation  to  action,  into  stimula- 
tive, indicative  and  repressive.  These  two  divisions — and 
this  is  especially  true  of  the  second — do  not  so  much  ex- 
press intrinsic  characteristics  as  passing  relations.  Essen- 
tially the  same  feeling  which  in  one  relation  or  in  one  de- 
gree is  pleasant,  may  in  another  relation  or  in  another  degree 
become  painful.  So  also  the  same  feeling,  as  fear,  may  at 
one  time  quicken  and  at  another  restrain  action. 

The  intellectual  feelings  are  divisible  into  primary  and 
secondary  feelings.  The  secondary  feelings  arise  from  the 
relations  which  things  assume  in  consequence  of  the  primary 
feelings  ;  while  the  primary  feelings  rest,  at  one  less  remove, 
on  constitutional  endowments.  The  primary  feelings  are  of 
two  orders,  according  as  the  relations  which  call  them  out 
are  simply  intellectual,  or  are  also  those  of  interest.  The 
root  of  the  fii*st  order  is  in  the  passing  phases  of  the  intel- 
lect, of  the  second  order  is  in  the  intellect  only  as  it  ministers 
to  deeper  constitutional  impulses.  The  feelings  of  the 
first  order  are  those  called  out  in  connection  with  habit,  by 


PRIMAR  Y  FEELINGS,  32.S 

separation  and  reunion,  by  things  or  events  new  or  unex- 
pected, by  wit  and  by  humor;  and  those  of  the  second  order 
are  desires.  There  are  obscure  feelings  of  comfort  which 
attend  on  the  habitual  in  action,  and  of  discomfort  which 
arise  from  the  interruption  of  habits.  There  is  a  large 
mass  of  less  obscure  feelings  of  satisfaction  and  discomfort 
which  are  connected  with  the  presence  or  absence  of  friends. 
Wonder  is  a  more  purely  intellectual  feeling,  and  is  awak- 
ened by  things  new  in  our  experience.  Surprise  is  a  yet 
stronger  feeling  elicited  by  that  which  contradicts  our  ex- 
pectations. Both  indicate  the  wakefulness  of  the  intellect 
to  a  change  of  data.  Wit  is  the  joining  of  ideas  apt  to 
our  purpose  by  an  unexpected  relation ;  humor  is  the  join- 
ing of  things  or  images  apt  to  our  purpose  by  an  unex- 
pected relation.  Things  are  in  this  definition  opposed  to 
ideas  in  the  former  delinition,  but  include  persons.  The 
unexpected  relation  of  the  first  definition  refers  to  some 
secondary  or  remote  connection  as  opposed  to  the  philo- 
sophical connections  of  thought  ;  in  the  second  defin- 
ition, it  indicates  an  unaccustomed,  and  incongruous  link. 
Though  the  feelings  that  accompany  wit  and  humor  are  of 
an  intellectual  order,  they  may  be  easily  united,  as  in  ridi- 
cule, to  personal  feelings.  All  of  this  order  of  feelings  turn 
on  the  familiar  and  unfamiliar.  In  habit  both  mind  and 
body  are  involved  ;  in  associations,  the  emotions  and  the 
thoughts  ;  while  in  wonder,  surprise,  wit  and  humor,  the 
thoughts  are  deeply  concerned. 

The  second  more  intense  order  is  composed  of  the  de- 
sires. These  may  be  termed  the  appetites  of  the  mind,  as 
they  express  its  appetences,  its  longings,  its  objects  of  pur- 
suit. They  have  been  usually  spoken  of  as  directly  native 
feelings.  Herein  there  seems  to  be  some  confusion  of  ideas. 
If  they  were  direct,  unreasoning  impulses,  they  could  not 
fall  into  the  second  general  class  of  feelings,  to  wit :  those 


324  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

whicli  have  an  intellectual  basis.  That  thej  are  not  spon- 
taneous, immediate  impulses,  a  little  thought  will  be  suf 
ficient  to  show.  As  universally  stated  they  are  directed 
toward  abstract  ideas,  not  toward  concrete  objects;  they 
are  desires  of  wealth,  of  power,  of  knowledge,  not  for  wam- 
23um,  for  the  ability  to  bend  a  bow,  or  to  calculate  an  eclipse. 
]N"ow  a  desire  directed  in  the  outset  to  a  generalization,  to 
an  abstract  quality,  is  an  absurdity,  since  no  such  quality 
can  be  present  to  the  mind  except  as  the  result  of  much 
comparison  and  many  judgments.  Neither  should  we  avoid 
the  difficulty  by  saying,  that  these  desires  fasten  themselves 
with  native,  original  force  on  specific  objects  under  each  of 
the  categories  of  desire.  There  are  no  sj)ecific  objects 
which  draw  forth  universal  desire,  and  which  can  stand  as 
concrete  types,  or  representations  of  the  notions  of  power, 
wealth,  honor.  Specific  powers  become  points  of  interest 
and  desire  according  as  they  are  able  to  gratify  certain 
native  appetites  or  tastes.  Possession  is  a  matter  of  inter- 
est to  the  child  only  as  the  thing  claimed  stands  in  some 
relation  to  its  sports,  by  which  it  is  capable  of  promoting 
its  enjoyment. 

Possession,  without  some  connection  with  our  pleasures, 
has  no  significance,  either  in  early  or  later  life.  A  square 
mile  of  territory  on  the  frozen  continent  of  the  Antarctic 
Zone,  has  no  power  to  awaken  desire  in  any  man.  Now  this 
discerning  of  the  relation  of  things  to  our  appetites,  our  ac- 
tive powers,  our  tastes,  which  makes  them  valuable,  is  an 
intellectual  activity,  receiving  constant  expansion  as  we 
grow  older,  and  leading  us  to  attach  importance  to  the 
ownership  of  an  increasing  variety  of  things.  The  igno- 
rant man  cares  not  for  a  book,  except  as  he  can  sell  it ;  l)e- 
cause  the  mental  conditions  which  make  possession  impor- 
tant to  him  have  not  been  met. 

Our   desires,    then,   are    secondary    feelings  uniformly 


DESIRES.  S2: 

evoked  by  tlie  perceived  relations  of  objects  to  our  primary 
native  feelings ;  our  appetites  below,  and  our  tastes  above. 
Without  either  the  lower  region  of  animal  tendencies,  or 
the  higher  region  of  spiritual  impulses,  desires  would  not 
exist ;  because  those  objects  now  included  under  the  term 
wealth,  or  those  possessions  known  as  knowledge,  would 
have  no  value,  having  no  power  to  minister  to  our  pleasure. 
The  statement  has  been  made  only  on  the  positive  side  ;  of 
course  we  include  the  corresponding  negative  considerations. 
Objects  may  excite  desire,  because  they  enable  us  to  escape 
pain.  An  action,  however,  which  stands  in  no  relation  to 
either  pain  or  pleasure,  must  be  one  to  which  we  are  wholly 
indifferent. 

We  have,  then,  no  occasion  to  suppose,  indeed  no  intel- 
ligible grounds  for  supposing,  the  presence  of  native  de- 
sires in  our  constitution  for  certain  absti-act  qualities,  or 
for  abstract  qualities  under  a  concrete  form  ;  because,  first, 
the  relation  of  wealth,  power,  knowledge,  to  our  happiness 
is  a  sufficient  explanation  of  our  desires  for  them  ;  because, 
second,  these  desires  come  and  go  with  this  relation — the 
miser  even  not  being  able  to  prize  that  wdiich  can  not,  un- 
der any  conditions,  be  sold ;  and  third,  because  there  is  a 
difficulty  in  supposing  generalizations,  arrived  at  by  much 
reflection  and  constantly  expanding,  the  direct  object  of  a 
simple,  primitive  feeling. 

The  very  notion  and  definition  of  a  primitive  feeling  is 
rather  the  immediate  action  of  some  object  or  intuition  on 
the  emotional  constitution.  The  secondary  relations  to  our 
well-being,  wdiich  things  disclose  through  the  intellect,  are 
grounds  of  our  intellectual  feelings.  These  are  all  in  one 
sense  secondary,  though  they  are  so  in  two  degrees,  and 
may  be  subdivided  among  themselves  as  primary  and  sec- 
ondary. 

In  classifying  the  desires,  we  are  then  classifying  the  ob- 


326  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

jects  which  draw  them  forth.  Desire  is  an  emotion  essen- 
tially of  the  same  character,  whatever  that  be  to  which  it 
attaches.  The  mind  does  not  remain  indifferent  to  those 
things  and  states  which  it  sees  to  concern  its  enjoyments. 
This  fact  is  expressed  in  a  feeling  toward  them  which  we 
term  desire.  A  desire  is  the  inclination  of  the  mind  toward 
things  which  it  sees  to  be  the  direct  or  indirect  sources  of 
pleasure.  It  rests  back  as  a  secondary  feeling  on  those 
primary  sensibilities  to  which  the  world  directly  ministers. 
Now  the  variety  of  objects  which  gratify  man,  and  the  va- 
riety of  their  separate  ministrations  are  so  great,  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  give  an  exhaustive  classification  of  them.  Those 
general  words  which  divide,  yet  include  the  most  of  the 
things  pursued  b}^  men,  are  wealth,  power,  honor ;  truth, 
beauty,  and  virtue. 

It  is  easy  to  fall  into  confusion  in  speaking  of  the  de- 
sires. The  difficulty  arises  chiefly  from  not  keeping  the 
words  by  which  we  express  them  at  the  same  grade  of  gen- 
eralization. A  great  variety  of  means,  near  and  remote, 
general  and  S]3ecial,  separates  our  actions  from  the  ultimate 
gratifications  at  which  they  aim.  These  gratifications,  lying 
in  the  outer  circle  and  due  to  constitutional  appetites,  pas- 
sions, tastes,  are  the  grounds  of  the  desires,  which  attach  to 
any  or  all  of  these  intervening  means.  It  is  these  means 
tliat  are  grouped  under  very  abstract  general  expressions, 
and  classified  as  the  desires.  If  the  classification  is  to  be 
of  any  worth,  it  must  take  place  at  one  grade  of  generaliza- 
tion, must  lie  in  and  cover  one  circle,  to  tlie  exclusion  on 
the  one  side  of  still  more  general  terms,  and  on  the  other 
of  more  specific  ones.  Thus  wealth,  power,  lionor,  —  by 
honor  are  meant  positions  and  circumstances  of  honor — 
beauty,  truth,  virtue  unite  to  cover  the  two  halves  of  one 
circle  of  the  generalized  objects  of  human  effort.  Knowl- 
edge is  not  added,  because  it  is  divided  between  j^ower  and 


DESIRES.  327 

truth.  As  a  simple  means  to  an  end  it  is  a  form  of  power, 
as  in  itself  productive  of  pleasures  it  is  truth. 

Having  so  classified  the  desires,  we  nmst  guard  against 
a  tendency  to  recognize  as  distinct  desires  any  of  tlie  more 
remote  objects  to  which  wealth,  power,  honor,  beauty, 
truth,  virtue  are  the  means.  It  is  accurate,  if  not  fitting 
language  to  say,  I  desire  revenge.  The  heart  also  yearns 
for  objects  of  affection,  and  that  it  itself  should  be  made  an 
object  of  love.  When  suffering  pain,  we  desire  its  removal ; 
when  fearing  punishment,  we  desire  escape.  These  are 
not  new  desires  under  our  list,  but  a  few  of  the  many  grati- 
fications to  be  reached  by  wealth,  power,  honor. 

The  desire  of  happiness  is  sometimes  added  to  the  list. 
The  objection  to  this  is,  that  this  desire  is  a  still  broader 
generalization,  including  all  the  others.  This  desire  em- 
braces all  our  desires,  is  the  utmost  stretch  of  analvsis  and 
abstraction.  Admit  this,  and  there  is  no  opportunity  for 
further  division — all  impulses  are  grouped  under  one  gen- 
eral impulse  common  to  each.  The  desire  for  existence  is 
also  a  desire  dependent  for  its  force  on  those  other  desires 
which  make  life  pleasurable.  It,  too,  is  a  common  condi- 
tion of  them  all. 

"We  regard  desire,  as  a  feeling,  as  indifferent ;  neither 
pleasurable  nor  painful,  at  least  in  its  earlier  forms.  When 
nourished  into  full  strength,  it  may  assume  a  more  positive 
character.  A  desire  for  wealth  that  is,  as  yet,  neither  grati- 
fied nor  balked,  while  it  becomes  an  immediate  ground  of 
pleasurable  activity,  while  it  gives  direction  and  concert  to 
the  feelings,  can  hardly  of  itself  be  called  distinctly  painful 
or  pleasurable.  This  is  seen  in  the  ease  with  which  desire 
passes  into  pain  or  pleasure  with  any  increase  or  decrease 
of  the  obstacles  to  its  gratification.  In  the  ordinary,  fa- 
miliar balance  of  effort  and  reward,  desire  guides  ratlier 
than  vexes  or  excites  us.     When  it  produces  pleasure,  it  is 


338  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

rather  by  the  activity  it  inspires,  the  hopes  it  enkindles, 
than  by  its  own  nature  as  an  impulse  :  when  it  provokes 
snffering,  it  does  so  by  the  nnnsual  obstacles  it  encounters, 
by  the  disappointment  of  fruitless  effort.  A  pure  desire 
seems  to  be  as  simpl}^  indicative  as  any  feeling  can  well 
be,  to  make  way  for  the  current  of  emotions  that  is  sure 
to  rush  along  in  its  channel. 

The  desires  have  different  degrees  of  strength  according 
to  the  minds  in  which  they  arise,  and  the  objects  toward 
which  they  are  directed.  The  desire  for  wealth  passes  with 
a  few  into  a  passion,  and  becomes  the  most  exacting  of  im- 
pulses, while,  with  others,  it  is  so  gentle  an  incentive  as  to 
control  but  few  of  their  actions.  Herein,  again,  is  seen  its 
secondary  character.  The  mind  that  habitually  forecasts 
the  future,  that  brings  coming  enjoyments  into  clear  con- 
trast with  immediate  pleasures,  is  one  in  which  the  desires 
show  their  full  strength.  The  conditions  of  their  activity 
are  fully  met,  and  they  soon  come  to  rule  with  undisputed 
sway.  One,  however,  in  whom  the  primary  a23petites  are 
exacting,  and  the  reflective  powers  feeble,  renders  but  way- 
ward and  intermittent  obedience  to  the  desires,  and  leaves 
the  events  of  life  to  be  fashioned  by  the  objects  in  most 
immediate  connection  with  the  sensibilities. 

The  strength  of  desires  also  depends  on  the  nature  of 
the  objects  sought  —  a  farther  result  of  their  secondary 
character.  The  pursuit  of  wealth,  of  power,  of  honor,  may, 
in  rare  instances,  settle  down  into  an  exorbitant  passion  in 
minds  in  which  the  lower  circle  of  vigorous,  primitive  sen- 
sibilities is  united  with  moderate  reflective  faculties,  fur- 
nishing a  clear,  yet  nevertheless  limited  horizon  of  effort. 
In  many  cases  these  desires  are  relaxed  by  the  disappoint- 
ments which  attend  upon  them,  or  the  unsatisfactory  na- 
ture of  the  results  when  realized.  The  desire  for  wealth  is 
likely,  under  the  force  of  habit,  under  the  momentum  of 


SECOND AE  Y  FEELINGS.  329 

the  mind,  either  to  pass  into  the  blind  passion  of  avarice, 
or  to  suffer  abatement  from  the  limited  character  of  the 
good  wealth  can  confer.  The  desires  for  truth,  for  vir- 
tue, on  the  other  hand,  grow  under  success  with  a  nor- 
mal, rational  growth.  Each  ac(|uisition  is  a  stimulus  to 
further  acquisition,  and  the  satisfaction  of  possession  in- 
creases every  moment  with  possession.  The  mind  more 
and  more  justifies  its  choice  to  itself,  and  congratulates 
itself  on  that  which  it  has  accomplished.  The  desire  for 
wealth  is  like  a  stream  that  at  length  finds  a  precipice  so 
high  that  in  its  leap  it  is  lost  in  air,  dissolved  again  in 
mist,  and  never  resumes  a  peaceful  flow ;  while  the  love  of 
truth  and  virtue,  more  tranquil  currents,  swell  in  volume, 
and  roll  on  increasing  waters  to  the  ocean. 

§  2.  On  either  hand,  the  desires  give  rise  to  a  large 
class  of  feelings  dependent  upon  them.  We  will  speak  first 
of  those  pleasurable  ones  which  accompany  success,  and 
thus  stimulate  effort.  They  fall  into  four  classes,  those 
which  arise  from  success  as  heing  achieved ;  those  which 
arise  from  success  as  achieved  hy  ourselves;  those  which 
arise  from  success  as  achieved  by  the  aid  of  others  ;  and 
those  which  arise  from  success  as  achieved  hy  others.  Im- 
mediately consequent  on  a  state  of  desire,  are  the  feelings 
of  hope  and  joy  in  view  of  the  prospect  of  obtaining  the 
object  sought.  Indeed,  hope  is  resolved  in  analysis  into 
the  feeling,  desire,  and  the  intellectual  condition,  expecta- 
tion. We  would  rather  regard  these  as  the  occasion  of  the 
emotion  tlian  the  very  emotion,  hope.  Joy  accompanies 
success,  and  passes  through  various  stages  lying  between 
tranquil  satisfaction  and  triumphant  exaltation.  These 
feelings  spring  immediately  from  a  free  flow  of  the  activi- 
ties called  forth  by  a  successful  desire,  and,  in  turn,  greatly 
quicken  their  action.  The  emotional  state  thus  becomes 
instantly  complex,  consisting  of  the  immediate  effect  of  an- 


330  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

ticipated  pleasures,  and  the  realized  pleasure  of  fully  em- 
ployed powers.  This  has  always  been  regarded  as  one  of 
the  most  unalloyed  forms  of  enjoyment — that  evoked  by 
the  grasp  of  coming  good  by  the  mind  as  a  certainty,  to- 
gether w^ith  the  high  exercise  of  its  own  faculties  in  secur- 
ing it.  The  stimulated  powers  and  feelings  not  only  yield 
the  delight  of  successful  action,  but  the  imagination  makes 
the  most  of  the  pleasure  promised,  and  overlooks  the  vexa- 
tions and  disappointments  which  too  frequently  embitter 
the  actual  enjoyment  of  it.  This  concurrence  of  the  prac- 
tical and  imaginative  faculties  leads  to  an  exalted  state  of 
feeling,  especially  when  neither  experience  has  sobered,  nor 
age  made  sluggish,  the  emotions. 

The  second  class  of  pleasurable  feelings  comes  from  the 
connection  of  effort  and  success  with  our  own  action.  They 
are  pride,  vanity.  These  emotions  are  most  influential  over 
action,  and  constitute  a  large  part  of  its  reward.  Yanity, 
the  pleasure  which  the  mind  receives  from  the  admiration, 
the  favorable  notice  of  others,  exists  with  various  conditions 
and  under  very  different  degrees  of  intensity.  In  its  mod- 
erate forms,  it  is  a  quiet  incentive,  and  only  becomes  ill- 
grounded  and  foolish  when  it  leads  to  a  neglect  of  real  ex- 
cellence and  solid  attainments,  in  favor  of  popular  powers 
and  showy  acquisitions.  Within  its  legitimate  sphere,  it 
closely  unites  itself  with  that  desire  for  the  good  opinion  of 
others  which  the  good  man  may  well  cherish.  There  are 
few  feelinfi^s  which  sustain  the  inferior  desires  as  those  for 
wealth  and  position,  as  constantly  and  effectively  as  this  of 
vanity.  Wealth  owes  its  attractions,  with  many,  to  its  abil- 
ity to  captivate  and  dazzle  the  public  eye,  to  open  gaping 
mouths,  and  bewilder  feeble  wits. 

Pride  arises  from  the  same  good  opinion  of  one's  self 
and  one's  possessions  that  characterizes  vanity.  It  is,  how- 
ever, accompanied  with  more  independence  of  character,  and 


SECOND  A  R  Y  FEELINGS.  331 

does  not,  therefore,  find  its  gratification  so  much  in  the  ad- 
miration of  others  as  in  its  own  admiration.  Yanity  loves 
parade,  delights  in  the  flow  of  j^opnlar  sentiment,  floats  its 
gay  shallop  on  the  good  opinion  of  others,  and  is  stranded 
when  public  favor,  like  a  shallow  stream,  is  lost  on  some 
sand-bar.  Pride,  in  its  high  opinion  of  itself,  despises 
others,  receives  indifferently  or  contemptuously  their  ad- 
miration, and,  like  an  ocean  vessel,  rides  solitary  on  the 
heaving  tide  of  its  own  conceit.  Like  vanity,  it  has  a  legit- 
imate form.  As  just  self-esteem,  it  furnishes  strength  and 
independence  to  character.  It  accompanies  all  grades  of 
desire.  The  food  which  the  accomplishment  of  our  desires 
affords  to  our  own  good  opinion  of  ourselves,  and  our  love 
of  the  admiration  of  others,  are  the  most  constant  and 
certain,  most  secret  and  sweet,  of  the  pleasures  of  success. 
In  a  modified  form,  these  feelings  enter  into  our  highest 
moral  sentiments.  The  various  words  by  which  we  desig- 
nate these  feelings,  derive  their  meanings  in  part  from  the 
different  degrees  of  the  same  emotions,  and  in  part  from 
the  supposed  justice,  or  fitness,  with  which  the  feeling  is 
entertained.  Conceit,  self-conceit,  assumption,  self-compla- 
cence, indicate  a  vanity  or  pride  in  advance  of  the  grounds 
for  it  in  our  power  or  possessions.  Indeed,  the  words  vanity 
and  pride  are  also  more  commonly  used  to  mark  these  ex- 
cesses of  feeling,  than  its  restrained  and  praiseworthy  forms. 
Self-confidence,  self-respect,  personal  pride  designate  the; 
more  measured  and  well-founded  phases  of  feeling. 

The  third  class  of  pleasurable  feelings  arises  in  view  of 
the  relation  of  others  to  our  success.  We  are  grateful  to? 
those  who  have  aided  us.  We  are  sympatlietically  attached, 
to  those  who  share  our  triumphs,  who  enjoy  our  pleasures 
witli  us.  Our  feelings  are  made  deeper,  hence  more  pleasur- 
able, by  the  impulse  of  kindred  feelings  on  them.  Emotional: 
states,  like  electric  conditions,  intensify  each  other,,  and.  as 


Sd4:  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

ings  are  proportionately  more  bitter.  Antipathy  and  dislike 
express  the  results  of  a  sense  of  opposition  in  character 
which  prepares  us  for  opposition  in  action,  and  provokes  in 
a  milder  form,  by  anticipation,  feelings  of  repulsion. 

Resentment,  anger,  hatred,  malice,  rage,  revenge,  mark 
the  more  violent  outbursts  of  feeling  toward  those  who  di- 
rectly thwart  our  efforts^  who  stand  astride  the  path  of  our 
desires.  These  feelings,  in  their  extreme  form,  so  blind  the 
mind  as  to  make  it  almost  indiscriminate  in  its  action  ;  as  to 
lead  it  to  give  vent  to  the  pent-up  passion  on  the  first  ob- 
ject that  offers.  The  mind,  like  an  electric  battery,  charged 
to  the  full  by  the  irritation  and  friction  of  chafing  events,  is 
ready  to  launch  a  bolt  at  the  nearest  point,  to  blast  and 
splinter  in  mere  wantonness  of  wrath. 

It  may  be  doubted,  perhaps,  whether  these  feelings  of 
resentment  are  not  in  part  pleasurable.  As  simple  emo- 
tions we  think  not.  They  give  rise,  however,  to  secondary 
desires,  desires  of  retaliation  and  revenge,  and  in  the  grati- 
fication of  these  we  experience  pleasure.  Language  recog- 
nizes this  in  such  an  expression  as.  The  sweetness  of  re- 
venge. These  feelings  may  also  be  blended  with  moral 
sentiments  of  indignation,  and  thus  their  true  character  be 
somewhat  disguised. 

Some  have  regarded  it  as  a  reflection  on  our  constitu- 
tion, that  we  should  be  capable  of  malevolent  feelings. 
This  perhaps  it  might  be,  if  they  w^ere  necessary,  primary 
emotions  ;  if,  like  the  appetites,  they  found  direct,  inevitable 
expression.  As  secondary  feelings,  however,  they  depend 
for  their  character  on  the  character  of  the  person  wdio  enter- 
tains them.  They  arise  under  the  general  possibility  of 
transgression,  of  wrong  desires  wrongly  pursued,  and  thus 
are  involved  in  the  general  problem  of  sin,  and  admit  of  the 
same  remedy  tliat  transgression  itself  suffers.  Right  de- 
sires, in  their  method  and  measure  right,  may  be  attended 


SECONDARY  FEELINGS.  335 

only  with  right  feelings.  The  holy  will  may  ultimately 
reach  to  the  correction  of  these  products  of  the  violent,  the 
unsubmissive,  the  selfish  will.  The  malevolent  feelings  are 
simply  the  evil  outflow  of  an  evil  purpose. 

The  foui'th  class  of  feelings  find  expression  tow^ard 
others  in  their  failures.  They  are  those  of  contempt,  pity 
compassion.  Contempt  is  the  direct  product  of  a  selfish 
spirit  toward  weakness.  Pity  involves  sympathy,  and  leads 
to  consideration  in  the  mishaps  of  others.  It  is  a  feeling 
that  independent  spirits  accept  with  reluctance,  as  it  so 
often  bears  with  it  something  of  the  taint  of  contempt.  In 
compassion  the  mind  goes  freely  forth  and  shares  with 
others  the  burdens  of  failure.  A  contemptuous  frame  of 
mind,  as  a  personal  characteristic,  reduces  all  the  incentives 
to  generous  action.  It  is  a  painful  emotion,  except  so  far 
as,  inflaming  self-conceit,  it  finds  in  the  failure  of  others 
the  food  of  pride.  A  low,  disparaging  estimate  of  the  pow- 
ers of  -men,  giving  birth  to  contempt  spiced  with  misan- 
thropy, will,  unless  relieved  by  a  marked  exception  in  our 
ow^n  favor,  depress  action  and  enjoyment.  Each  newdy  dis- 
covered case  of  weakness  increases  the  bitterness  of  the 
heart.  This  feeling  slowly  over-clouds  the  sky,  and  leaves 
the  soul  in  a  chill,  benumbing,  disheartening  atmosphere, 
rendering  it  incapable  of  pleasure,  and  indisposing  it  to  the 
effort  by  which  the  spell  might  be  cast  off.  The  contemp- 
tuous man  takes  home  as  guests,  sarcasm,  satire,  unbelief, 
aversion.  He  abides  in  their  companionship,  lies  down 
and  rises  with  them,  and  suffers  their  corrosive  breath  to  tar- 
nish the  brightness  of  every  object.  Contempt  is  the  rust 
of  the  soul,  which  eats  it  up  with  increasing  pain.  IS'othing 
can  be  intrinsically  more  diverse,  or  more  diverse  in  their 
effects,  than  that  intellectual  contempt  which  feeds  on  the 
weakness  of  men,  and  that  moral  sentiment  which  scorns  a 
mean  action.     The  one  is  the  recoil  of  the  soul  upward ; 


336  THE  INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

the  other,  its  gravitation  downward,  its  cynical  unbelief  in 
goodness,  its  despair  of  strength. 

The  most  beneficent  of  tlie  intellectual  feelings,  as  good- 
will and  compassion,  are  but  feeble  sentiments  when  dis, 
joined  from  the  moral  nature.     They  are  still  pleasurable,  1 

still  indices  of  action,  impulses  to  a  little  desultory  effort, 
but  rarelj^  have  a  deeper  foundation  than  that  of  sympathy, 
which  feebly  transfers  to  us  another's  feelings ;  and  play 
but  a  secondary  part  among  those  towering  and  dominant 
passions  which  drink  up  the  life  of  the  soul.  They  are  re- 
mote reflections,  faint  types  of  those  strong  affections,  those 
profound  sympathies  which  give  to  the  higher,  the  moral 
nature  its  compass  and  power,  which  enable  it  successfully 
to  confront  the  appetites  and  passions,  outweighing  the 
good  they  offer  with  a  greater  good. 

It  is  the  feelings  now  indicated  in  this  second  great  class 
resting  primarily  on  self-interest,  and  esj^ecially  liable  to  ex- 
cess, that  are  termed  passions.  These  emotions  are  fre- 
quently so  strong  that  we  suffer  from  them,  that  we  seem 
to  be  their  passive,  afflicted  subjects  rather  than  their  re- 
sponsible sources. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Spiritual  Feelings. ' 

§  1.  The  spiritual  feelings  are  so  called  because  tliey  be- 
long peculiarly  to  our  higher  nature.  Intellectual  action 
is  spiritual  action :  jet  that  which  giv^es  guidance  and  gov- 
ernment to  our  interior,  hidden  life,  is  found  in  our  intu- 
itions. The  intellect  is  instrumental  under  these,  and,  as 
in  the  brute,  is  simply  a  means  to  safety  and  gratification. 
Our  spiritual  feelings  spring  up,  then,  in  direct  connection 
with  our  intuitions ;  those  mental  elements  which  make  our 
life  truly  rational,  which  give  to  us  a  choice  of  ends,  and 
liberty  in  the  pursuit  of  them.  The  only  intuitions  which 
draw  forth  directly  feeling,  are  those  of  truth,  beauty  and 
right.  There  is  in  the  emotions  connected  with  these  reg- 
ulative ideas  the  action  of  the  intellect,  yet  an  action  differ- 
ent from  that  presented  by  tlie  last  class  of  feelings.  In 
these,  it  w^as  the  observed  relation  of  things  to  our  enjoy- 
ments which  was  the  ground  of  desire,  with  the  attendant 
sensibilities.  The  mental  action  intervened  between  the 
remote  appetites,  tastes,  passions,  and  pointed  out  the  means 
of  gratification,  and  called  forth  a  variety  of  emotions  in 
prosecuting  the  labor  presented.  In  the  present  case,  the 
intellectual  action  precedes  the  intuition.  Patient  inquiry 
reveals  the  grounds  of  belief,  the  truth:  a  careful  discrimin- 
ation of  qualities,  of  the  symbols  of  expression,  of  complex 
relations,  discloses  the  conditions  of  beauty :  a  thorough  in- 
quir}^  into  the  nature  and  results  of  action,  its  reflex  and 
progressive  effects,  lays  open  its  true   character,  and  then 


338  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

tlie  intuitive  faculty  comes  in  to  complete  and  seal  the  work 
in  the  discernment  of  a  new  and  distinct  quality — tliat  of 
right.  The  pro2:)Osition  is  said  to  be  true,  the  statue  is  seen 
to  be  beautiful,  the  action  is  pronounced  right,  and  forth- 
with there  arise  many  sentiments  which  find  their  spring 
in  these  ideas.  These  are  the  spiritual  feelings.  Their 
immediate  dependence  is  on  the  mind's  intuitive  action ; 
their  secondary  dependence,  on  our  intellectual  faculties. 
Our  intellectual  feelings,  on  the  other  hand,  find  their  im- 
mediate source  in  mental  action,  in  the  conclusions  of  ex- 
perience, and  their  ultimate  ground  in  the  appetites  and 
tastes.^ 

These  feelings  again  are  open  to  the  same  division  into 
pleasurable,  indifferent  and  painful  emotions.  This  relation 
of  the  feelings  to  happiness  must  necessarily  be  a  funda- 
mental distinction  of  all  the  emotions.  Their  relation  to 
action  may  be  said  to  be  secondary  to  their  relation  to  en- 
joyment, since  action  itself  is  undertaken  or  withheld  in 
view  of  its  immediate  or  ultimate  effects  on  the  sensibilities. 
The  feelings  can  only  be  classified  by  their  external  rela- 
tions, since,  intrinsically,  they  are  all  diverse,  all  simple 
original  states,  known  in  experience  only.  Of  the  external 
relations  of  the  feelings,  this  relation  to  happiness  is  most 
essential,  while  that  to  action  comes  next  in  order,  both  as 
indicating  an  immediate  purpose  served  by  our  sensibilities 
and  their  secondary  effects  on  our  character  and  well-being. 
In  their  connection  with  action,  the  spiritual  feelings  as- 
sume a  more  imperative  character  than  either  of  the  other 
two  classes.  In  those,  feelings  enter  to  stimulate  and  gratify 
effort,  or  check  and  discourage  it ;  here,  they  go  before  it 
as  well  to  command  as  to  forbid  action.  They  cease  merely 
to  allure,  and  seek  decisively  to  enjoin  and  prohibit  differ- 
ent lines  of  conduct.  The  middle  ground  of  indication 
seems  narrowed  to  a  point,  and  to  be  pressed  closely  on 


TRUTH.  339 

either  liand  by  dissuasives  and  ^persuasives.  The  spiritual 
sentiments  may  be  divided  into  those  of  persuasion,  indica- 
tion and  dissuasion.  Their  voice  is  always  one  of  authority, 
though  its  authority  need  not  be  felt  so  long  as  it  is  kindly 
and  cheerfully  accepted.  Actual  or  contemplated  resistance 
provokes  a  class  of  j^enal  sensibilities  ;  and  obedience  elicits 
feelings  that  have  the  positive  character  of  approval  and 
reward. 

The  weakest  of  these  sentiments,  and  those  therefore 
which  least  well  rep>resent  the  class,  are  the  somewhat  in- 
tangible, rare,  and  uncertain  sensibilities  which  accompany 
the  discovery,  the  recognition  of  the  truth  as  truth.  Truth 
is  the  agreement  of  a  projDOsition  with  the  facts  which  it 
states.  Much  the  majority  of  truths  are  received  as  truths 
with  no  emotion.  Most  of  them  are  matters  of  interest 
only  as  they  effect  action — only  in  their  relation  to  our  de- 
sires and  tastes,  indicating  success  or  failure,  or  revealing  the 
line  of  conduct  to  be  pursued.  Truths,  for  the  most  part, 
are  means  possessed  of  no  inherent,  emotional  force  beyond 
their  relation  to  ends. 

This  negative  character  of  truth  seems  sometimes  to  dis- 
appear, and  truth  as  truth  to  inspire  a  certain  enthusiasm  of 
mind,  by  which  we  feel  that  this  is  indeed  the  food  of  our 
spiritual  nature.  We  may  breatlie  the  air  ordinarily  with- 
out thought,  or  sensible  pleasure.  Occasionally,  we  find  it 
peculiarly  invigorating ;  we  inhale  great  draughts,  and  bring 
our  whole  physical  being  into  a  more  conscious  and  exalted 
state.  Thus  is  it  w^ith  the  truth, — the  daily  breath  of  our 
intellectual  life.  We  ordinarily  overlook  it ;  at  rare  inter- 
vals we,  in  deej)  inspiration,  feel  its  pervasive  and  subtile 
power,  and  rejoice  in  its  possession.  We  travel  along  the 
valley,  scarcely  observing  the  objects  about  us,  with  no  ela- 
tion of  feeling ;  we  pass  some  crowning  summit,  take  in  a 
wider  range,  and    the   before  concealed  wave  of   emotion 


3J:0  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

becomes  sensible  to  us ;  we  are  lifted  on  its  passing  billow 
as  if  a  breath  from  another  world  had  stolen  suddenly  across 
our  path. 

This  is  the  kind  of  emotion  to  which  we  draw  attention 
— the  enthusiasm  sometimes  felt  in  truth,  more  especially 
in  those  fundamental,  far-reaching  truths  which  seem  to 
suddenly  lift  the  veil  of  phenomena,  of  varied  colors,  and 
to  disclose  to  us  the  frame-work  of  the  universe ;  the  pur- 
poses which  are  running  through  it,  and  bearing  it  to  its 
goal.  This  on-going  of  a  divine  plan,  when  recognized, 
startles  and  inspires  the  mind,  lifts  truth  out  of  its  daily, 
dry,  instrumental  ministrations,  and  gives  us  the  sense  of  a 
new  inheritance  and  possession,  in  a  universe  whose  concep- 
tion we  can  thus  lay  hold  of,  whose  secrets  we  can  thus 
penetrate,  whose  wisdom  and  love  we  can  thus  interpret  and 
feel.  I  care  not  how  little  or  how  much  of  this  sentiment 
we  may  have  felt,  how  far  it  may  be  thought  to  be  confined 
to  the  more  poetic  and  penetrative  temperaments  ;  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  draw  attention  to  it  as  an  enthusiasm  for  truth  oc- 
casionally felt  and  avowed,  finding  expression  in  the  collec- 
tive use  of  the  word  truth,  the  truth,  the  truths,  as  if  a  cer- 
tain concealed  link  and  deep  unity  were  to  be  found  in  all 
facts.  We  do  this,  too,  in  the  face  of  those  detestible  facts, 
truths,  which  sin  is  forcing  constantly  upon  our  notice,  as 
if  after  all,  there  were  some  profound  fellowship,  some  one 
exaltation  in  all  truths,  rendering  them  the  trutli. 

This  sensibility  to  the  truth,  be  it  more  or  less  clear, 
be  it  more  or  less  deep  (1)  inspires  pursuit,  (2)  leads  to  faith 
in  a  profound,  unfolding  plan,  and  (3)  quickens  the  mind  to 
discover  the  corrective  laws,  the  compensatory  statements 
for  the  defects  and  transgressions  which  lie  on  the  surface 
of  the  world.  Tliis  sentiment  opens  uj)  a  line  of  effort,  in- 
spires enthusiasm,  sends  faith  in  advance  of  reason,  and 
rejoices  in  the  slow  displacement  of  accredited  by  appre- 


TRUTH.  341 

hended  facts,  of  statement  by  disclosure,  of  trust  by  sight, 
of  instinctive  belief  by  the  light  of  comprehensive  prin- 
ciples. It  is  little  more  than  the  exaltation  and  joy  of 
our  spiritual  faculties  as  they  enter  on,  and  begin  to  occupy 
their  inheritance — an  inheritance  which  we  are  pleased  to 
call  that  of  eternal  truth,  though  on  the  shifting  surface 
of  changing  events,  everything  seems  most  transitory — of 
blessed  truth,  though  most  horrible  and  terrible  facts  are 
daily  evolved  before  our  eyes.  Yes,  the  sense  and  the  rev- 
elation of  deej)  principles  that  undergird  the  world  with 
abiding  strength,  and  gather  it  up  in  the  embrace  of  an  ex- 
alted, a  blessed  purpose,  are  with  us,  steal  in  uj)on  us  in 
our  best  convictions,  and  yield  the  repose  which  a  belief  in 
its  ultimate  triumph  inspires.  There  is  inlocked  in  our  lan- 
guage and  our  nature  a  belief  in  truth,  central,  adaman- 
tine, giving  safe,  benignant  support  to  the  universe  of  God. 
In  like  manner,  we  carry  over  to  the  false,  the  untrue,  a 
farther  concentration  of  opposition  and  rejection  in  the 
word,  falsehood.  We  personify  it  as  a  distinct  principle  or 
power  of  mischief,  believe  in  its  weakness,  and  rejoice  in 
its  ultimate  overthrow.  I^o  matter  what  may  have  been 
their  character,  few  of  any  party  have  ever  espoused  false- 
hood as  such,  few  have  not  felt  that  the  confession  of  it 
would  be  the  admission  of  ultimate  failure.  We  recognize 
the  vague  way  in  which  these  words,  truth  and  falsehood, 
are  frequently  used ;  yet,  nevertheless,  we  claim  that  there 
is  in  this  tendency  of  the  mind  to  recognize  the  inherent 
opposition  of  the  true  and  the  false,  the  ultimate,  necessary 
victory  of  the  one  over  the  other — a  latent  belief  in  funda- 
mental principles  and  forces,  which  it  is  the  vain,  temporary 
effort  of  falsehood  to  cover  up  and  counter-work.  This  em- 
brace of  the  real,  as  ultimately  involving  the  ideal,  and! 
passing  in  evolution  from  excellence  to  excellence,  is  the- 
fruit  of  the  mind's  discovery  of  truth  and  error,,  its  hearty. 


342  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

acceptance  of  tlie  one  and  its  rejection  of  tlie  other;  its 
satisfaction  in  tlie  external  plan  of  God. 

§  2.  The  next  group  of  intuitive  feelings,  though  of  a 
more  manifest  character,  and  more  prevalent,  has  jet  much 
of  the  same  subtlety,  the  same  choice  of  persons  and  times. 
Indeed,  these  are  features  of  the  whole  class  of  emotions 
of  which  we  are  speaking.  It  has,  doubtless,  been  one 
reason  of  the  difficulty  with  which  the  spiritual  feelings  and 
the  intuitive  ideas,  on  which  they  are  immediately  depend- 
ent, have  been  recognized,  that  they  are  not,  like  the  phys- 
ical feelings,  universally  present  with  approximately  equal 
power,  but  in  many  scarcely  seem  to  exist  at  all,  and  in 
their  full,  intense  forms  to  be  confined  to  comparatively  few. 
Yet  the  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  They  are  each  of  them 
dependent  on  previous  culture,  on  a  faithful,  special,  dis- 
criminating action  of  the  understanding.  The  beauty  of 
the  world  is  not  seen,  or  at  least  is  but  very  partially  and 
inadequately  seen,  without  an  inquiry  into  its  structure  and 
relations,  without  a  discernment  of  the  exquisite  perfection 
of  idea  and  workmansliip  involved  in  it.  l^o  more  is  the 
right  understood  without  a  broad  survey  of  conduct,  the 
tracing  of  actions  to  their  consequences ;  without  rising 
above  the  immediate  current  of  tlie  stream  to  see  whence 
and  whither  its  flow.  The  intuitive  feelings,  therefore,  can 
only  be  strong  and  clear  in  the  more  penetrative  and  reflec- 
tive minds.  They  do  not  thereby  cease  to  be  universal  or 
characteristic  when  their  appropriate  conditions  are  met. 

The  esthetical  emotions  arise  solely  under  the  previous 
action  of  mind.  Disorder,  absolute  and  complete,  can  fur- 
nish no  beauty,  nothing  to  be  admired,  notliing  intrinsi- 
cally to  be  delighted  in.  Order,  arrangment,  is  the  first 
step  toward  beauty,  is  the  first,  simplest  product  of  taste. 
But  this  order  is  the  result  of  thought.  This  arrangement 
^will  present  itself  as  beautiful  in  j^roportion  to  the  number 


BEA  UTY.  343 

and  variety  of  the  ends  it  meets,  and  the  ease  and  accuracy 
with  which  these  separate  purposes  are  fulfilled.  A  little 
formal  order  imposed  by  mere  utility,  simple  convenience 
in  the  classification  of  material,  is  not  sufficient,  or  suffi- 
ciently significant  to  excite  and  to  satisfy  the  taste.  It  is 
not  till  more  feeling  enters  into  our  plan,  more  variety, 
skill  and  precision  of  adjustment,  that  the  elements  of 
beauty  begin  to  be  clearly  revealed,  and  the  mind  takes  an 
additional  delight  in  the  work  aside  from  each  and  all  of 
the  ends  subserved  by  it.  Gardening,  architecture,  music, 
are  the  arts  least  imitative — the  arts  in  which  the  beauty 
present  is  most  immediately  the  result  of  the  combining 
power  of  the  human  mind.  In  each  of  these,  mere  order 
produces  scarcely  a  sensible  effect.  It  is  not  till  the  plan 
discovers  high  appreciation  of  the  resources  at  the  disposal 
of  the  artist,  and  great  power  and  pleasure  in  combining 
and  developing  them — not  till  the  product  becomes  thor- 
oughly emotional,  and  in  its  scope  and  variety  betrays  a 
mind  and  heart  alike  active,  that  it  begins  in  turn  to  com- 
mand our  emotion,  and  impress  us,  as  the  case  may  be, 
with  the  grace,  symmetry,  harmony,  force  of  the  concep- 
tion. 

Here,  then,  beauty  throws  us  into  appreciative  sympa- 
thy with  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  a  worker;  of  one 
who  executes  well  and  powerfully,  and  delights  in  such 
execution — one  with  whom  perfection  is  a  thing  esteemed, 
sought  after,  and  includes  far  more  than  the  immediate  sub- 
ordination of  the  means  employed  to  a  useful  physical  end. 
It  is  this  effort  of  the  mind,  without  neglecting  utility,  to 
lift  each  of  its  works  out  of  the  mere  routine  of  labor,  off 
from  the  simple  plane  of  service  into  an  emotional  region, 
— to  -make  it  in  its  excellence,  in  its  skillful  or  affectionate 
or  grand  handling,  a  source  of  independent,  superior,  con- 
stant pleasure,  that  is  the  source  of  beauty,  and  of  its  com- 


344  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

mand  over  the  lieart.  IS"©!  merely  work,  or  good  work,  but 
superior,  expressive,  emotional  work  is  its  aim.  The  es- 
thetical  feelings  cause  us  to  delight  in  such  labor,  and  to 
go,  as  far  as  may  be,  to  every  undertaking  crowned  with 
garlands. 

If  we  pass  to  the  beauties  of  nature,  equally  do  we  find 
that  it  is  thought,  aptness  of  arrangement,  skill  of  work- 
manship, labor  performed  with  infinite  love  and  faithful- 
ness, that  arrest  the  mind  and  gratify  tlie  heart.  In  pro- 
portion as  many  adaptations,  many  powers  are  gathered 
into  a  brief  compass,  and  with  a  perfect  finish  and  relation 
of  parts  .united  in  one  organic  whole,  are  we  climbing  with 
slow  gradations,  with  a  thousand  steps  of  varied  progress, 
from  the  lowest  life  to  the  highest,  from  the  plant  to  man, 
delighted  with  the  goodness  of  the  thought,  the  kind  and 
abundant  ministration  of  faculties  to  the  well-being  and  ex- 
cellence of  the  final  product.  In  each  advance  of  beauty, 
there  is  more  expression,  because  there  is  more  and  more 
perfection,  more  and  more  beneficent  labor,  till,  in  man 
we  find  the  highest  condensation  of  power  and  regard ;  ser- 
vice, compactness,  symmetry,  finish,  in  their  most  perfect 
forms. 

Everywhere,  then,  it  is  the  labor  of  mind  and  heart,  the 
births  of  thought  and  feeling,  the  rational  products  of  high 
intelligence  and  love,  that  arouse  the  sensibility  of  beauty ; 
and  we  are  so  constituted  that  we  can  not  be  indifferent  to 
these  qualities  when  perceived  by  us.  A  cold,  intellectual 
apj^rehension  does  not  exhaust  them.  They  elicit  a  certain 
regard,  assume  a  certain  relation  which  we  designate  as 
beauty,  and  so  call  forth  the  pleasures  of  beauty.  Such  en- 
joyment on  our  part  is  (1)  a  crowning  sympathy  with  excel- 
lence ;  such  perception  (2)  an  additional  incentive  to  high 
attainment.  They  are  the  thirst  of  an  aspiring  spirit  for 
that  which  is  beyond,  which  is  above  ;  for  that  which  it 


BE  A  UTT.  345 

knows  it  can  grasp  and  enjoy.     They  take  all  barrenness, 
all   deadness  from  simple  intellectual  movement,  breathe 
through  it  desire,  cause  it  to  draw  back  the  curtain  between 
us  and  the  ideal  world,  and  fire  us  with  the  zeal  of  pursuit. 
While  the   specific  character   of  esthetical  emotions  is 
very  pronounced,  their  minor   differences   are  very  great. 
The  same  fruits  have  not  all  the  same  flavor.     The  most 
exquisite  and  characteristic  tastes  complete  the  circle,  with 
an  endless  division  and  change  of  quality.      In  works  of 
nature,   plants,   trees,   landscapes,   birds,    beasts,    men ;    in 
works  of   art,  painting,  statues,  poems;  in  varied  objects, 
and  in  their  yet  more  varied  combinations,  we  find  a  con- 
stant change  of  predominant  qualities,  endless  degrees  of 
power,  and  ever  shifting  methods  of    expression.      Hence 
arises  in  esthetical  sentiments  every  shade  of  form  and  force, 
from  impressions  scarcely  perceptible  to  those  which  wholly 
occupy  the  soul — overpowering  emotions  breaking  out  upon 
it  like  a  flood.     The  flow  of  these  enjoyments  in  the  sensi- 
tive mind  may  be  compared  to  the  movement  of   music, 
now  gay  and   cheerful,  now  common-place,  now    low  and 
sad,  now  mysterious,  now  wild,  now  sublime,  gliding  from 
phase  to  phase  of  emotion  with  perfect  ease  and  inexhausti- 
ble felicity.     The  scope,  body,  variety  of    feelings  which 
are  either  in  whole  or  in  part  of  an  esthetical  character,  are 
in  sensitive,  poetic  temperaments  very  marked.     A  large 
«hare  both  of  their  gentler  as  well  as  more  exalted  pleas- 
ures springs  from  this  source. 

The  form  of  action  which  these  emotions  prompt  is  mani- 
fest. They  always  afford  a  mild,  often  a  powerful  stimulus 
to  painstaking,  emulative  and  refined  action.  They  pro- 
mote the  finish,  the  perfection,  the  beauty  of  every  product 
of  the  hand  or  of  the  mind.  They  reveal  themselves  in 
the  physical  results  of  labor,  and  certainly  not  less  in  char- 
acter.    The  restraints  and  checks  of  esthetic  sentiments  are 


346  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

experienced  constantly  in  manners  and  social  customs,  and, 
if  the  taste  is  keen  and  just,  in  the  more  deep,  ^^ersonal, 
spiritual  traits  of  action.  Indeed,  nobility,  magnanimity, 
the  symmetry  and  proportion  of  robust,  thorough,  healthy 
virtue,  can  hardly  be  reached  without  a  large  infusion  of 
this  esthetic  insight,  which  discerns,  delicately  and  com- 
pletely, the  formal  as  well  as  the  intrinsic  bearings  of  con- 
duct. The  dependent,  complementary  relation  of  the  es- 
thetic to  the  ethic  sense  cannot  be  doubtful.  Some  may 
strive  to  make  the  first  a  detached  law  of  action,  but  it  only 
performs  safely  and  to  the  full  its  office,  as  it  accepts  the 
higher  law,  and  aids  in  its  complete  application.  Perfect 
beauty  in  man,  its  highest  subject,  is  the  strong  and  varied 
and  delicate  development  of  moral  power  —  the  infusion 
of  all  the  members  and  means  of  life  with  this  inner,  true 
life  of  the  soul — the  flowing  outward  in  limb,  lineament, 
and  language  of  those  manifold  forces  and  susceptibilities 
that  spring  from  wholesome,  healthy,  physical  forces,  in  the 
handling  of  a  supreme,  sj)iritual  power.  Taste  rightly  de- 
veloped can  no  more  fail  to  distinguish  morality  from  im- 
morality, to  work  under  the  one  and  against  the  other,  than 
it  can  fail  to  discriminate  between  life  and  death,  health 
and  disease,  exalt  the  first,  and  hide  the  second  in  its  de- 
formity. Beauty  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  action  as 
right ;  like  it,  it  enjoins  and  forbids,  rewards  and  punishes. 
It  blows  a  more  silvery  trumpet,  its  notes  are  less  clear, 
penetrating  and  decisive  than  those  which  break  sternly 
forth  from  the  lips  of  ethical  law,  yet  they  wind  their  way 
into  many  remote  places,  and  persuasively  bend  into  cheer- 
ful and  perfect  order  the  otherwise  unpliant  recruits  of 
virtue. 

§  3.  We  have  now  reached  the  feelings  which  are  most 
central  and  characteristic  in  the  class  to  which  they  belong, 
the  moral  sentiments.     The  emotions  just  spoken  of  would 


VIRTUE.  I  ^/.         ^^^ 

lose  much  of  their  character  were  it  not  for  tmjir  intep|)ene-  ^     , 
tration  by  those  of  the  moral  nature.     It  is  this  1^mi\on\^i 
the  higher   sensibilities  downward  wdiich  gives  condi'enc6''>> 
and  authority  to  the  recognition  of  truth,  to  estheticarfeel-     ^ 
ings,  which  of  themselves  simply  have  little  binding  force.'y 
The  only  imperative  voice  in  man's  nature,  is  that  of  con-    ' 
science  ;  all  other  authority  is  but  the  echo  and  reflection  of 
this.     In  one  view  of  the  subject  our  moral  nature  may  be 
said  to   be   our   entire  nature ;   since  a  moral  quality  and 
moral  relation  are  imparted  to  all  thoughts  and  actions  by 
the  presence  of  this  supreme,  supervisory  power.      In  a 
more  strict  use,  our  moral  nature  includes  those  emotions 
wdiich  more  directly  spring  from  it.     Conscience,  the  f)er- 
ceptive  faculty,  which,  in  an  indivisible  act,  sees  the  right 
and  feels  the  sense  of  obligation,  is  the  centre  of  our  moral 
constitution.     Without  it,  w^e  should  have  no  affections,  no 
moral  sentiments ;  with  it,  w^e  find  the  whole  atmosjDhere 
of  our  being  irradiated,  and  a  thousand  colors  revealed  in 
objects,  tangible,  indeed,  in  the  darkness ;  endowed   with 
odor  and  with  flavor,  but  with  no  direct  avenue  of  approach 
through  the  physical  night  to  the  intellectual  day.     Light 
does  not  more  modify,  I  may  say  etherealize  matter,  mul- 
tiplying  a  thousand  fold   its  intelligible   signs,   crowding 
them  in  from  all  quarters  and  all  distances  on  the  astonished 
mind,  than  does  a  moral  perception  affect  our  estimates  of 
character,  deepen  in  meaning,  and  broaden  in  time  the  re- 
lations of  actions. 

The  fundamental  moral  feeling  from  which  all  others 
spring  is  that  of  obligation.  This,  as  regards  pleasure  and 
pain,  is  indifferent.  It  may  give  place  to  one  or  the  other 
according  to  the  attitude  assumed  toward  the  duties  desig- 
nated. The  blended,  the  indivisible  nature  of  the  intui- 
tion and  the  accompanying  sentiment  should  be  carefully 
marked.    A  sense  of  obligation,  a  mere  feeling,  with  no  con- 


O 


o^S  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

viction  to  wliicli  that  feeling  attaches,  is  theoretically  un- 
intelligible, and  practically  unserviceable.  An  intuition  of 
right  on  the  other  hand,  which  does  not  instantly  assume 
the  force  and  pressure  of  duty,  loses  its  character  and  slips 
from  the  throne  of  tlie  mind.  Intrinsic  quality  and  exterior 
form,  the  rational  and  the  emotional  elements,  are  insepar- 
ably blended,  and  give  us  a  command,  whose  unquestionable 
authority,  like  that  of  one  born  to  rule,  is  in  the  immediate 
fact,  in  tone,  attitude,  outspoken  power. 

If  obedience  follows  the  intimations  of  our  moral  sense, 
there  sets  in  a  deep  and  deepening  current  of  pleasurable 
feelings,  of  reward.  The  force  and  intensity  of  these  emo- 
tions will  depend  very  much  on  the  degree  in  which  thejudg- 
ments  which  sustain  the  action  of  conscience  and  prepare 
the  way  for  its  decisions  have  been  cultivated ;  on  the  re- 
lative force  which  the  moral  sentiments  have  secured  in  our 
constitution  by  obedience.  Ethical  feelings,  like  esthetical 
ones,  are  very  dependent  on  cultivation.  The  reason  of  this 
is  obvious,  since  in  neither  case  are  we  dealing,  as  in  exter- 
nal perception,  with  a  direct,  immediate  faculty,  but  witli 
one  acting  on  previous  intellections,  previous  conceptions  of 
the  mind,  and  therefore  limited  in  its  scope  and  correctness 
to  them.  It  is  evident  that  the  character  of  phenomena 
should  be  judged  by  instances  in  which  they  are  most  man- 
ifest and  complete,  not  by  cases  in  which  they  are  obscure 
and  furtive.  A  j^owerful  moral  nature  makes  itself  at  once 
felt  in  the  pleasures  it  pours  in  upon  the  obedient  mind, 
of  such  degree  and  quality  that  the  appreciative  heart  pre- 
fers them  to  all  others,  and  purchases  them  at  any  price  of 
suffering  which  can  be  exacted  of  it.  Yet  these  enjoyments 
are  of  a  tranquil  rather  than  a  violent  kind ;  a  deep  sense 
of  satisfaction  in  the  choices  made,  a  thorousch  content- 
merit  in  actions  done,  an  inner  approval  which  anticipates 
a  like  outward  acceptance  on  the  part  of  the  wnse  and  just. 


VIRTUE.  349 

The  feelings  which  follow   disobedience,  though  more 
irregular   and   unequal  in  their  action,  often  dilatory  and 
partial,  when  compared  with  those  of  approval  and  reward, 
yet  frequently  assume  a  strong,  clear,  undeniable  character. 
Shame,  guilt,  remorse,  willful  opposition,  and  sullen  despair 
may,  in  turn,  hold  sway,  and  make  themselves  as  distinct 
as,  and  more  bitter  than,  any  other  feelings  which  the  heart 
ever  experiences.     For  reaching  this  result,  more   or  less 
time  may  be  required.    Repeated  disclosure  of  the  disasters 
of  transgression,  the  accumulation  of  physical  retributions, 
a  revelation  of  pervasive  law,  hemming  in  and  baffling  the 
disobedient,  may  be  needed  to  instruct  the  moral  judgments 
and  awaken  the  moral  sense.     When,  however,  a  pause  is 
given  to  the  career  of  sin,  when  reflection  and  the  intuitive 
results  of  reflection  can  no  longer  be  averted,  the  force  and 
direction  of  moral  emotion  are  as  certain  as  the  pains  or 
pleasures  of  sense,  when  things  bitter  or  sweet  are  on  the 
palate.     The  pains  of  indigestion  may  follow  more  slowly 
than  disgust  from  food  in  itself  offensive  ;  but  the  conse- 
quences are  no  less  of  a  distinct  and  undeniable  character. 
Moral  sufferings  may  be  postponed  in  more  ways  and  longer 
than   many  other  emotional  issues  of  action  ;   yet  the  de- 
velopment of  causes  ripens  them  none  the  less  certainly  to 
their  results.     The  w^hole  history  of  the  race  renders  the 
positive  character  of  the  moral  sentiments  as  undeniable  as 
the  physical  consequences  of  an  unwholesome  diet.    The  fear 
the  cowardice,  the  apprehension,  the  boldness,  the  approval, 
the  confidence ;  self-condemnation,  self-gratulation ;  the  re- 
proaches of  conscience,  the  flismay,  the  despair  attendant  on 
wickedness  achieved,  the  composure  of  assured  conviction, 
the  calm  anticipation  of  suffering,  the  triumph  over  it,  fill 
the  records  of  history,  are  the  staple  of  dramatic  and  heroic 
action.     Heathen  and  Christian  literature  alike  breathe  in 
their  more  profound  and  earnest  moods,  one  spirit. 


350  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS, 

Sajs  Juvenal : 

**  But  tell  me,  why  must  those  be  thought  to  'scape. 
Whom  guilt,  arrayed  iu  very  dreadful  shape, 
Still  urges,  and  whom  conscience,  ne'er  asleep, 
Wounds  with  incessant  strokes,  not  loud  but  deep. 
While  the  vexed  mind,  her  own  tormentor,  plies 
A  scorpion  scourge,  unmarked  by  human  eyes." 

The  history  of  martyrs  especially  develops  the  moral 
forces  in  man,  since,  on  these  feelings,  the  struggle  has 
turned.  The  cruel  tossings  of  such  a  mind  as  that  of  Cran- 
mer,  clear,  conscientious,  yet  timid  and  distrustful,  between 
fear  and  conviction,  discloses  as  clearly  as  any  thing  can  dis- 
close the  nature  of  the  forces  at  work,  unless  it  be  the  vary- 
ing sympathy,  the  alternate  charity  and  condemnation  of 
succeeding  generations,  in  view  of  the  momentary  over- 
throw and  ultimate  triumph  of  the  moral  sentiments  in  the 
fearful,  bold  saint. 

§  4.  Personal  qualities  are  greatly  modified  by  the 
moral  nature.  Meekness,  humility  lose  all  servility  and 
are  made  consistent  with  the  utmost  strength  ;  while  moral 
firmness  softens  down  without  weakening  the  outline  of 
character. 

Still  more  is  this  true  of  our  feelings  towards  others. 
These,  in  the  conscientious  temperament,  receive  almost 
their  entire  force  from  the  moral  sentiments.  The  affec- 
tions, a  distinct  class  of  sensibilities,  are  our  emotions 
toward  others  as  moral  beings.  Admiration,  love,  sympa- 
thy, benevolence,  forgiveness,  cltarity,  patience,  indignation, 
contempt,  shame,  are  feelings  which  though  they  may  bear 
the  same  name  with  certain  intellectual  emotions  are  very 
different  from  them.  Love  a  passion  and  love  an  affection, 
the  indignation  of  anger  and  the  indignation  of  a  violated 
moral  sense,  are  alike  diverse  sentiments  in  their  relation 


VIRTUE.  351 

both  to  enjoyment  and  to  action.  In  tlie  first  relation,  tliey 
may  as  easily  prey  upon  happiness  as  promote  it ;  in  the 
second,  they  can  not  fail  of  being  productive  of  pleasure. 

In  the  moral  sensibilities,  the  shar]3ness  and  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  seltish  element  disappear,  and  the  benignity, 
composure  and  patience  of  a  moral  impulse  take  their  ]3lace. 
It  is  the  intermingling  of  so  many  kinds  of  feeling,  and  of 
the  words  applicable  to  them,  which  confound  the  charac- 
ter of  action,  and  the  classification  of  this  department. 

The  direction  in  which  the  moral  sensibilities  find  full- 
est play  is  that  of  religious  sentiments.  The  relations  and 
duties  designated  as  religious  are  those  which,  by  the  feel- 
ings and  the  results  involved,  are  fitted  to  act  most  power- 
fully on  the  conscience  and  affections.  The  religious  emo- 
tions, therefore,  seem  at  times  to  overshadow  other  forms 
of  ethical  action,  since  their  intensity  and  scope  bear  some 
proportion  to  the  interests  covered  by  them — to  the  en- 
nobling, greatly  stimulating  presentations  of  the  divine  at- 
tributes. The  foundation  of  religion  is  ethics,  yet  the  ethi- 
cal form  is  often  swallowed  up  in  the  deep,  spontaneous 
play  of  the  religious  affections.  If  we  consider  the  per- 
manent issues  of  happiness,  of  joy  and  peace,  as  settled  in 
our  own  constitution  by  the  moral  sentiments,  and  the  rela- 
tions of  actions  under  them  ;  if  we  remember  that  nothing 
in  our  fellow-men  is  of  more  abiding  interest  to  us  than 
their  character,  than  the  moral  purposes  indicated,  and  line 
of  conduct  adopted ;  and,  above  all,  if  we  bring  to  mind 
that  the  deepest,  the  supreme  play  of  feeling  is  towards 
God,  chiefly  known  to  us  as  a  moral  being,  we  shall  see  that 
the  class  of  sentiments  now  presented  are  at  once  the  most 
varied,  the  most  full,  the  most  central  and  powerful  of  our 
emotions.  So  pervasive  are  they,  that  they  give  coloring 
to  intellectual  feelings  which  they  cannot  rule,  enter  in  a 
fragmentary  form  where  completeness  is  denied  them,  and 


352  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

are  brought  in  to  intensify  or  modify  or  disguise  sentiments 
intrinsically  at  war  with  them.  The  exact  shades  of  ap- 
proval and  condemnation,  of  contentment  and  restlessness, 
of  belief  and  unbelief  in  them,  are  as  endless  as  are  the 
relations  which  men's  actions  bear  to  virtue. 

Their  authority,  their  retributive  connection  with  pleas- 
ure and  pain,  the  undercurrent  of  fear  or  hope,  of  repose 
or  alarm,  of  conscious  virtue  or  acknowledged  guilt,  which 
they  cause  to  flow  through  the  soul,  obviously  assign  them 
the  highest  rank  iii  the  highest  class  of  feelings.  It  is  a 
convenient  use  of  words,  and  one  we  have  occasionally 
employed,  to  designate  collectively  the  primary  incentives 
of  the  spiritual  nature  as  tastes,  in  contrast  with  appetites 
and  passions. 

§  5.  In  the  following  diagram,  feelings  are  introduced 
which  have  not  been  discussed  in  the  text,  and  farther  divi- 
sions are  made.     The  enlargements  are  self-explanatory. 

We  do  not  present  this  classification  as  exhaustive.  It 
aims  simply  to  define  leading  directions  of  the  emotions 
and  leading  dependences.  It  serves,  also,  to  show  the  com- 
plexity of  the  feelings,  the  way  in  which  they  blend  with 
each  other,  modify  and  pass  into  each  otlier,  and  the  insuf- 
ficient, shifting  terminology  applicable  to  them.  Indeed 
the  word  sometimes  only  implies  and  does  not  exj)ress  the 
feeling  intended. 

We  might  easily  subdivide  the  ethical  emotions,  but 
no  good  purpose  wou  d  be  subserved.  They  would  still 
prove  too  subtile  and  pervasive  for  us.  The  one  thing 
we  emphasize  is  the  degree  in  which  the  higher  sink  into 
the  lower  feelings,  and  transform  them.  Innumerable  and 
most  complex  relations  sj^ring  up  between  men  by  virtue  of 
the  moral  constitution,  and  each  relation  has  a  new  combina- 
tion of  spiritual  sentiments.  The  great  facts,  too,  of  relig- 
ion enter  to  impart  a  new  elevation  and  range  to  these  emo- 


CLA8E1FICATI0N. 


353 


Physical 
Feelings. 


Intellectual 
Feelings. 


General  Sensations, 
Special  Sensations, 
Appetites, 
Natural  Affections. 

Contentment. 

Unrest 

Wonder. 

Surprise, 

Wit, 

Humor, 


1. 


Primary. 
2. 


Desires. 


Incident  to 

success. 


Secondary, 


Wealth, 
Power, 
Honor. 
Truth, 
Beauty, 
^  Virtue. 

As  being  achieved. 


As  achieved. 
by  ourselves. 


\ 


Spiritual 

Feelings. 


Incident 
to  truth, 


Incident  to 

failure.  "^ 

I  Pleasure, 
■I  Enthusiasm, 
'  ( Awe. 

(  Delight, 
•{  Grs     " 


To  beauty,  -j  Grandeur, 
(  Sublimity. 


-! 


By  the  aid  of  others. 

By  others. 
As  occurring. 
Through  ourselves. 

Through  others. 

To  others. 
Obedience. 


To  right.      -! 


In  reference 
to  ourselves. 


f 


I       Disobedience. 


V     To  others., 


Obedience. 


Disobedience. 


-! 


i  Hope, 

\  Joy, 

(  Satisfaction. 

'  Pride, 

Vanity, 

Courage, 

Confidence. 

Gratitude, 

Good-will, 

Attachment. 

Admiration, 

Honor, 

Emulation. 

Fear, 

Disappointment, 

Discouragement. 

Humility, 

Shame,  ' 

Mortification. 

Anger, 

Rage, 

Hatred, 

Malice, 

Jealousy, 

Envy, 

Defiance. 
( Contempt, 

Pity, 
( Compassion. 

Self-approval, 

Peace, 

Courage. 

Humility, 
Repentance, 
Guilt, 
1  Unrest, 
Remorse, 
1^  Despair. 

■  Respect, 
Praise, 
A  Love, 
I  Faith, 
[Reverence. 

Disrespect, 

Distrust, 

Censure, 

Justice, 

Aversion. 

Patience, 

Forgiveness, 

Benevolence. 


3oi  THE  SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS. 

tions.  Yet  complex  or  grand  as  the  results  may  be,  tlieir 
elements  are  the  shnple  feelings  we  have  given.  We  have 
outlined  the  j^rimary  colors  of  the  brilliant  spectrum. 

The  beautiful  also  unites  with  the  right  with  farther 
transfiguring  force.  We  only  point  the  way  to  these  fields 
of  poetry  and  religion,  we  do  not  paint  them.  The  posi- 
tion in  which  we  have  put  our  words  of  designation  must 
often  define  the  word ;  we  cannot  reproduce  the  atmos- 
pheric coloring  of  the  spiritual  heavens. 


CHAPTER  lY. 

DYANAMICS    OF    THE    EMOTIONS. 

§  1.  We  have  spoken  of  the  three  classes  of  feelings ; 
the  physical,  the  intellectual,  and  the  spiritnal.  We  wish 
now  to  see  them  more  collectively  in  their  relations  to  each 
other  in  the  formation  of  character  and  the  control  of  ac- 
tion. .  The  first  class  spring  immediately  from  physical  con- 
ditions, and,  including  incidental  occasions  of  pleasure,  have 
primary  reference  to  physical  w^ell-being.  At  points  they 
transcend  this  object.  Taste,  touch,  smell,  are  means  of 
simple,  intellectual  distinctions;  yet,  it  remains  true,  that 
the  senses  which  are  the  avenues  of  feeling,  the  appetites, 
the  sensations  indicating  special  physical  conditions,  all  have 
primary  reference  to  health,  to  guiding  action  in  nourish- 
ing and  maintaining  the  vigor  of  the  body.  Even  here,  it 
can  hardly  be  said,  that  "  All  pleasure  arises  from  the  free 
play  of  our  faculties  and  capacities ;  and  all  pain  from  their 
compulsory  repression,  or  compulsory  activity."  Much  less 
is  this  generalization  of  Hamilton's  applicable  to  the  remain- 
ing classes  of  emotion. 

It  is  the  unhealthy  and  the  healthy  action,  the  unwhole- 
some repression  and  the  wholesome  rej)ression,  that  give 
pain  and  pleasure  respectively,  if  not  at  once,  as  an  ultimate 
consequence.  Pain  enters  frequently  to  arrest  action,  and 
not  as  the  consequence  of  arrested  action.  Mere  activity, 
voluntary  though  it  may  be,  does  not  necessarily  give  the 
conditions  of  enjoyment ;  these  must  depend  on  its  relations 
to   health.      ]N"either   does  repressed   exertion,  involuntary 


356  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

tliougli  tlie  restraint  may  be,  define  tlie  conditions  of  plijsi- 
cal  suffering.  Overlooking  the  mental  vexation  of  such 
constraint,  the  physical  consequences  may  be  agreeable. 
Phj^sical  pleasures  seem  to  dej^end  on  the  relation  which  ac- 
tivity and  repose  have  to  health,  and  not  on  their  relation 
to  the  will  of  the  agent.  Some  forms  of  disease  provoke 
vohmtary,  fitful,  restless,  yet  painful  effort.  Exertion  or  the 
want  of  it  by  no  means  explains  the  accompanying  pain 
or  pleasure ;  we  know  through  experience  their  general 
connection  with  physical  well-being.  Our  pain  and  pleas- 
ures impart  a  direct  stimulus  to  appropriate  effort  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  body,  still  more  they  instruct  us  as  to  its 
conditions  and  wants,  and  thus,  in  a  secondary  way,  guide 
our  action.  They  subserve  the  purposes  of  intellectual  dis- 
crimination and  of  gratification. 

Intellectual  feelings  have  relation  to  success,  are  pleas- 
urable and  painful  in  proj^ortion  as  this  end  is  secured  or 
lost.  Unsuccessful  activity,  no  matter  how  free  and  sponta- 
neous it  may  be,  is  always  in  the  intellectual  feelings  which 
accompany  it  disagreeable,  often  intensely  painful.  Our 
physical  and  our  intellectual  enjoyments  may  not  always 
harmonize.  Effort  in  itself  wholesome  may  fail  of  its  ob- 
ject and  occasion  disappointment,  and  exertion  crowned  with 
the  most  flattering  success  may  bring  a  severe  infliction 
of  physical  penalties.  The  mind  institutes  its  own  ends, 
and  afterwards  finds  pleasure,  or  experiences  suffering,  by 
its  ])rosperity  or  losses  in  the  pursuit  of  them.  As  the  pri- 
mary relation  of  the  intellectual  emotions  is  to  success  in 
the  ends  aimed  at,  the  pleasure  and  pain  in  this  direction 
experienced  act  as  stimuli  to  sagacity,  and  faithfulness  in 
the  choice  and  use  of  means.  This  is  an  instrumental,  an 
intermediate  field,  and  its  enjoyments  are  of  a  secondary, 
intermediate  character. 

Spiritual  j^leasures  have  reference  to  the  choice  of  ends, 


ORDER  OF  FEELINGS.  357 

to  the  marking  out  of  lines  of  conduct,  to  obedience  to 
higlier  impulses.  These  again  may  often  fail  of  concur- 
rence with  intellectual  enjoyments.  We  have  the  satisfac- 
tion of  success  in  the  attainment  of  ends  which  we  should 
never  have  chosen,  and  the  moral  rebuke  may  thus  set  in  at 
the  point  at  which  the  intellectual  j^leasure  is  most  com- 
plete. Physical  health  and  spiritual  health  are  ultimate, 
and  the  secondary  intellectual  enjoyments  can  not  avert  the 
consequences  of  failure  as  regards  either  of  them.  Spiritual 
enjoyments  and  sufferings  come  in  to  enforce  obedience — 
obedience  to  the  law  of  spiritual  life.  They  stand  in  the 
same  relation  to  this,  that  physical  pleasures  do  to  the  low- 
er life  of  the  body.  They  are  simple,  ultimate,  the  moral 
sense  sustaining  them.  With  self-established  authority,  the 
conscience  legislates  for  the  whole  man,  and  according  as  its 
commands  are  wisely  understood  and  wisely  ajDplied,  the 
minor  physical  and  intellectual  enjoyments  are  gathered  up 
in  these  supreme  pleasures  of  the  soul. 

Our  enjoyments  are  not  thus  simply  the  fruits  of  activ- 
ity, they  are  of  such  a  character  as  to  define  its  limits,  and 
direct  it  to  aj)propriate  objects.  The  law  of  life  in  the 
whole  man  is  indicated  by  them.  The  ends  to  be  pursued, 
the  limits  to  be  set  to  activity,  even  in  its  right  directions, 
are  pointed  out,  with  the  accompanying  injunction  laid 
upon  us  of  a  skillful  choice  and  use  of  means. 

§  2.  The  three  classes  of  feelings  now  referred  to,  have 
a  successive,  rather  than  an  equal  and  simultaneous  hold  on 
the  mind.  The  physical  feelings  are  most  immediate,  di- 
rect, importunate  in  their  claims.  The  intellectual  life  is 
awakened  through  the  physical  life,  in  some  sense  follows 
it.  The  sensations,  the  appetites,  the  states  of  the  body, 
are  early  and  decided  means  of  good  and  evil — means  inde- 
pendent of  thought,  with  a  necessary  and  irresistible  appeal 
to  the  sensibilities.     The  intellectual  feelings,  as  secondary. 


QK 


58  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

involve  a  previous  action  of  mind,  are  not  strong  except  in 
connection  with  considerable  forethought,  a  somewhat  broad 
survey  of  the  relations  of  actions.     For  this  reason,  the  de- 
sires do  not  set  in  in  a  deep,  strong  current,  except  in  more 
advanced  minds,  or  in  the  more  civilized  states  of  society. 
In   a   barbarous  community,   the  immediate   impulses   are 
chiefly  animal  ;  in  a  civilized  community  the  desires  come 
to  rule  the  leading  classes,  while  the  appetites  still  bear  sway 
in  the  lower  ranks.     The  sj^iritual  feelings  are  yet  more 
tardy  in  their  full  development.     For  anything  like  broad, 
decisive  action  of  our  higher  intuitions,  there  is  recpiisite 
much  previous  reflection.     As  beauty  involves  the  union  of 
inner  power  with  perfect  form,  there  must  be,  for  its  due 
perception,  a  deep,  discriminating  insight  into  both.    As  the 
universal  sway  of  morality  arises  from  a  clear  perception  of 
the  dependence  of  individual  and  general  w^ell-being  on  the 
form  and  spirit  of  conduct  in  its  every  manifestation,  it  is 
not  till  faithful  observation  and  protracted  reflection  have 
disclosed  the  character  and  issues  of  action,  that  the  ethical 
impulse  can  find  very  complete  application.     In  the  outset, 
it  is  likely  to  be  confined  to  a  few  negative  precepts,  cut- 
ting off  the  individual  from  gross  violations  of  the  right. 
Ten  commandments  or  twelve  tables  expounded  in  the  most 
barren  way  may  seem  its  limits.      Only  the  latest  culture 
can  open  these  into  the  pervasive  precept  of  universal  love. 
The  most  enlightened  communities,  therefore,  as  yet  pre- 
sent a  very  partial  government  of  the  spiritual  sentinients. 
When  the  artistic  sensibilities  have  been  awakened,  they 
have  hitherto  affected  but  limited  classes,  and  this  in  a  par- 
tial, one-sided  form ;  sometimes  even  in  direct  violation  of 
the  moral  sentiment  which  underlies  all  high  acts.     The  re- 
ligious emotions  also  have  been  restricted  in  their  action, 
and  fragmentary  in  their  character.     The  spirit  and   the 
force  of  a  higher  life  have  not,  in  their  completeness,  been 


FOBCE  OF  RULING  FEELING.  359 

grasj^ed,  and  we  have  had  an  ethics  more  or  less  at  war  with 
esthetics — an  intense  yet  narrowed  force,  which  could  not 
discriminate  and  command  all  the  elements  requisite  for 
its  own  most  perfect  expression. 

§  3.  Were  it  not  that  communities  —  that  successive 
generations  of  men,  achieve  a  collective  growth,  which  the 
individual  is  able  to  receive  inductively  from  them,  start- 
ing at  the  point  they  have  already  reached,  this  order  of 
development  in  the  feelings  would  make  the  condition  of 
mankind  comparatively  hopeless.  But  the  growth  of  soci- 
ety reveals  very  clearly  this  progress  from  the  physical  to 
the  intellectual  feelings,  and  in  an  incipient  form  is  disclos- 
ing that  farther  movement  by  which  the  artistic  and  etlii«al 
sentiments,  under  the  perfect,  harmonious  rule  of  the  higher 
impulses,  shall  take  the  supreme  position  amid  the  powers 
and  pleasures  of  the  human  heart. 

When  any  one  feehng  begins  to  j)redominate  in  the 
individual  or  the  community,  many  things  concur  to 
strengthen  its  hold.  Take,  as  an  illustration,  such  a  desire 
as  that  for  wealth.  It  soon  becomes  a  strong  current,  plow- 
ing for  itself  a  deep  bed,  walled  on  either  hand,  and  not 
readily  changed.  The  desire  by  repetition  returns  easily 
as  an  habitual  one.  Surrounding  objects  and  pursuits  are 
more  and  more  contemplated  in  their  ability  to  gratify  this 
feeling,  and  therefore  by  their  presence  more  uniformly 
bring  it  uppermost  in  the  mind.  Kindred  pursuits  draw 
together  parties  in  whom  the  desire  is  already  developed, 
and  by  emulation  and  the  confirmation  of  like  judgments, 
they  inflame  it  in  each  other.  Thus  a  large  commercial 
city  seems  a  very  maelstrom  of  economic  currents,  and 
every  individual,  a  separate  particle  spinning  round  and 
round  under  the  same  feverish  impulse  and  waiting  to  be 
swallowed  m^  by  the  same  insatiable  lust.  The  brood  of 
feelings  also  warmed  into  life  by  a  parent  desire,  unite  at 


360  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

once  in  the  same  clamorous  and  importunate  cries.  Vanity, 
pride,  the  satisfaction  of  success,  the  fear  of  failure,  all 
quicken  effort,  and  occupy  the  heart,  when  for  a  moment 
the  original  impulse  relaxes.  The  circle  of  secondary  de- 
sires is  momentarily  enlarged  as  the  means  of  gratification 
are  placed  within  their  reach,  and  the  wealth  acquired  is 
often  less  and  less  able  to  meet  the  claims  laid  upon  it 
by  feelings  which,  without  law  or  limit  in  themselves, 
become  ravenous  in  proportion  to  the  food  given  them. 
Thus  external  and  internal  circumstances  are  increasingly 
shaped  to  the  ruling  feeling,  grow  up  more  and  more 
under  it,  institute  claims  in  harmony  wij;h  it,  confirm  the 
judgments  which  sustain  it,  and  weaken  and  remove  to  a 
distance  adverse  emotions.  From  this  household  of  depen- 
dents, from  this  pressure  of  a  prevalent  opinion,  from  these 
confirmed  and  consolidated  convictions  of  the  soul  itself, 
it  is  difficult  to  find  an  avenue  of  escape.  If  we  substitute 
an  appetite  for  a  desire,  though  there  is  less  warping  of  the 
judgment,  there  is  in  its  place  a  peevish,  persecuting  habit, 
not  easily  to  be  worn  out  or  resisted.  From  this  confirmed 
movement  which  the  feelings  for  the  time-being  assume,  it 
becomes  necessary  that  the  forces  which  work  for  progress, 
should  find  concentration,  and  also  tliat  long  periods  should 
be  allowed  them  in  which  to  possess  and  fortify  the  ground 
they  may  be  able  to  win.  The  overthrow  of  one  class  of 
feelings,  and  their  permanent  replacement  by  another  in  a 
community,  is  a  truly  gigantic  work,  requiring  often  the 
slow  eradication  and  correction  of  a  protracted  and  varied 
experience. 

This  fact  is  especially  observable  in  the  development  of 
the  spiritual  sensibilities.  The  social,  moral  law  lies  be- 
tween persons,  and  is,  therefore,  every  monient  affected  in  its 
form  by  the  parties  to  it.  Gracious  affections  can  not  go 
forth  toward  ungracious  men,  any  more  than  from  them. 


FEELINGS  OF  ANIMALS.  3G1 

Hard  facts  demand  stern  principles,  and  stern  principles  call 
for  severe  enforcement.  Only  as  each  heart  is  softened 
can  all  hearts  be  softened.  Only  as  one  sees  clearly  the 
path,  can  he  lead  others  into  it ;  and  no  one  can  see  clearly 
lines  of  action  far  ahead  of  the  conditions  by  which  he  is 
snrronnded.  Each  movement  must  be  conjunct  with  ex- 
isting circumstances,  and,  by  a  series  of  actions  and  reac- 
tions, make  way  for  the  next  movement.  At  each  stage 
the  animal  appetites  and  the  intellectual  passions  must  re- 
ceive within  themselves  the  modifying  force  of  the  spir- 
itual tastes.  The  two  ultimate  sources  of  impulse,  physical 
and  spiritual,  do  not  remain  aj)art  under  growth  ;  a  vigor- 
ous interaction  sets  in ;  each  class  softens  the  other  and 
gives  it  new  conditions.  The  intellectual  feelings,  elicited 
by  this  double  play  of  incentives,  are  correspondingly  puri- 
fied and  enriched.  Time  is  demanded  for  securing  the  en- 
largement and  unity  of  life,  and  its  diffusion  through  every 
function.  Time  is  the  one  unalterable  condition  of  evolu- 
tion. 

§  4.  The  feelings  of  the  animal,  if  the  view  we  have 
presented  of  his  endowments  is  correct,  are  almost  j)urely 
physical.  His  courage  is  physical  courage ;  his  fear,  phy- 
sical fear ;  that  is  to  say,  these  states  are  imposed  upon  him 
directly  by  external  objects.  The  one  is  the  rushing  in  of 
nerve  power,  prompting  to  conflict ;  the  other,  the  deser- 
tion of  the  seats  of  strength  by  the  energies  of  life — an  im- 
mediate provocation,  an  inclination,  to  flight  instead  of  at 
tack.  Memory,  giving  rise  to  association,  may  indeed,  in 
the  higher  animals,  start  trains  of  feeling  and  thus  of  ac- 
tion aside  from  the  power  of  the  object  which  is  more  re- 
motely their  cause.  Yet  these  feelings  are  comparatively 
limited.  Little  apj^rehension  is  shown  except  in  the  j^res- 
ence  of  danger,  and  then  not  according  to  its  real  nature, 
but  its  sensible  form.     The  alarm  manifested  by  many  ani- 


362  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

mals  assumes  a  direct,  instinctive  character — the  appropriate 
action  evidently  follows  the  sensitive  impression  without 
any  intervention  of  judgment.  The  young  of  the  partridge 
hide  themselves  instantly  on  the  first  intrusion.  Barn- 
fowls  are  filled  with  immoderate  and  universal  alarm  as  the 
shadow  of  the  hawk  glides  by  them.  The  actions  of  the 
lower  creation  assume  generally  this  direct  dependence  on 
sensations,  with  an  occasional  intervention  of  the  intellec- 
tual element  of  association.  * 

Having  now  the  emotions  completely  before  us  in  their 
relation  to  the  mind  and  to  each  other,  we  are  better  able 
to  decide' on  the  merits  of  that  theory  wdiich  recognizes  but 
two  classes,  resolving  the  spiritual  feelings  into  the  intellec- 
tual. This  will  hardly  seem  possible,  if  we  fairly  estimate 
all  that  belongs  to  the  intuitive  emotions.  These  higher 
sentiments  so  percolate  downward,  so  tinge  secondary  feel- 
ings, giving  them  a  new  character  and  value,  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  analyze  out  the  purely  physical  sensibilities,  and  to 
see  how  far  these,  with  the  action  of  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties upon  them,  can  be  made  the  foundation  of  our  rich, 
emotional  endowments.  When,  with  the  utilitarian,  we  un- 
dertake honestly  to  construct  our  entire  spiritual  constitu- 
tion from  these  purely  physical  elements,  we  have  a  heavy 
labor  laid  upon  us.  ^ot  only  must  the  primary  sense  of 
truth,  of  beauty,  and  of  obligation,  be  laid  aside,  all  the  af- 
fections which  spring  from  them  must  be  dismissed,  and 
also  that  esthetical  or  ethical  quality  or  flavor  which  inevit- 
ably pervades  intellectual  emotions,  whose  staple  is  physical 
pleasure.  A  rogue  will  pride  himself  on  a  certain  honor, 
whose  fiber  and  force  are  found  in  single  threads  of  moral 
ity.  A  clown  is  vain  of  possessions,  whose  excellence  con- 
sists largel}^  in  beauties  hidden  in  great  part  from  him. 

Do  this  work  of  analysis  thoroughly,  separate  carefully 
out  all  Ijut  strictly  physical  feelings,  and  we  shall  find  re- 


^ 


EVOLUTION  OF  FEELINGS.  363 

maining  very  inadequate  elements  to  be  transformed  by  in- 
tellectual combination  into  the  varied  and  profound  sensi- 
bilities of  a  truly  developed  nature.  The  natural  movement 
of  tender  sympathies  must  be  made  the  means  by  which 
this  vast  superstructure  is  reared.  Yet,  in  the  powerful  and 
growing  consent  of  appetite  and  purely  selfish  impulses,  how 
quickly  and  wholly  would  these  feeble  sentiments  be  swept 
away.  How  hopeless  the  effort  to  stay  the  actual  forces  of 
mischief  in  the  world,  not  only  with  no  sense  of  obligation 
in  the  mind,  but  no  admiration  of  virtue,  no  perception  of 
the  beauty  of  excellence  as  such,  no  delight  in  any  form  of 
intrinsic  merit,  but  always  and  everywhere,  a  cold,  gross, 
sensual  judgment  of  actions  and  their  results — the  pleas- 
ure of  compassion  rated  coolly  at  its  scale-mark  in  a  selfish 
mind,  and  with  nothing  farther  to  commend  it,  except  as 
it  can  be  shown'^ultimately  to  make  way  for  physical  indul- 
gence. 

Grade  these  pleasures  of  the  body,  give  them  each  their 
numerical  value,  put  the  occasional  play  of  natural  sym- 
pathy with  them  ;  let  the  intellect  honestly,  closely  adhere 
to  them ;  add,  subtract,  involve,  evolve,  at  pleasure ;  and 
forecast  in  the  long  reaches  of  its  calculations  such  periods 
as  it  pleases,  and  how  infinitely  short  after  all  must  these 
promises  of  sagacious  action  fall  of  those  deep,  instant, 
noble  impulses  which  our  sense  of  beauty  and  of  virtue 
bestow.  Yirtue  is  useful  because  it  holds  in  its  right  hand 
peculiar  and  unmeasured  rewards,  because  it  is  virtue.  It 
is  not  virtue  because  it  is  useful,  because  it  is  laden  with 
baskets  filled  with  fruits  plucked  from  the  trees  of  a  sensual 

paradise. 

§  5.  There  are  certain  laws  which  control  the  feelings 
in  their  relations  to  each  other.     The  first  of  these  is,  The 
more  intense  feelings  are  transient,  the  more  moderate  ones- 
are  relatively  permanent.     This  law  is  more  true  of  plijsi- 


364  DYNAMICS  OF  TEE  EMOTIONS. 

cal  pleasures  tlian  of  physical  pains.  These  last  usually  in- 
dicate a  distinct  fact,  and  are  dependent  on  it  for  their  du- 
ration. Strong  physical  pleasures  involve  a  corresponding 
expenditure  of  physical  force,  and  so  exhaust  their  resources. 
This  fact  is  an  enforcement  of  the  law  of  temperance.  The 
law  holds  still  more  uniformly  in  intellectual  and  spiritual 
emotions ;  in  part,  for  the  same  reason,  and  also  because  ex- 
cited feelings  fall  into  conflict  with  ordinary  duties,  because, 
seeking  immediate  gratiflcation  in  violent  action,  they  are 
satisfied  by  that  action,  and  because,  as  intense  emotions, 
they  have  less  sufficient  occasions  than  more  moderate  ones. 
A  violent  temper,  therefore,  is  wont  to  be  a  volatile  one ; 
while  one  slowly  moved  is  corresj^ondingly  firm.  Intense 
grief  is  followed  ])y  comparative  apathy ;  exciting  pleasures 
by  depression  of  spirits,  and  vehement  anger  by  relative 
indifference.  The  evenly  happy  life  must  be  fed  by  the 
milder,  more  sustained  sentiments ;  and  the  peace,  the  rest 
of  the  soul  is  found  in  the  balance  and  correction  of  its  feel- 
ings one  by  the  other.  The  moral  sentiments  yield  supe- 
rior repose,  not  from  their  own  nature  alone,  but  also  from 
the  restraints  and  rule  to  which  they  subject  all  vexing  and 
exorbitant  emotions.  Esthetic  pleasures  are  among  the 
most  peaceful,  since  they  are  among  the  most  harmonized 
and  proportionate,  of  the  sentiments.  Even  a  spiritual  feel- 
ing that  is  excessive  does  not  escape  the  lassitude  of  reac- 
tion. 

A  second  law  is,  Similar  feelings  sustain  each  other,  dis- 
similar ones  displace  each  other.  Certain  views  and  states 
unite  easily,  flow  together  and  strengthen  each  other. 
Others  stand  in  the  opposite  relation,  and  exist  by  mutual 
exclusion.  Harmony  is  consistent  with  contrast.  Indeed, 
this  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  impressions  are  deepened 
and  made  complete.  The  intellectual  view  is  made  clear 
•  and  decided  by  uniting  like  with  like,  and  opposing  like 


LA  WS  OF  FEELING.  365 

to  unlike — by  agreement   and  by  contrast.     The  latter  is 
often  the  more  effective  of  the  two  methods  of  deepening 
an  impression.     Harmony,  as  a  condition  of  feeling,  includes 
the  presence  of  what  is  concordant,  and  excludes  objects  dis- 
cordant, lying  in  different  parts  of  the  intellectual  and  emo- 
tional field.     It  is  opposed  to  distraction,  to  diverse  emo- 
tions, and  thus  divided  effects.     Living  facts  are  always 
struggling    for   equilibrium    among    themselves  —  for    an 
organic  dependence  about  a  single  centre.      Hence  a  pre 
vailing  tendency  and  a  strong  feeling   strive  to  subordin- 
ate all  tendencies  and  feelings  to  themselves,  and  to  put  the 
character  in  harmony  with  its  dominant  force.     To  this  law 
also  are  due  the  jar  of  interruption,  and  the  unusual  wear 
of  distracting  duties. 

A  third  law  is,  New  things  make  a  strong  emotional 
impression,  old  things  a  weaker  one.  Novelty  not  only 
awakens  the  feeling  of  wonder,  it  enhances  all  the  impres- 
sions made  by  intrinsic  qualities.  The  new  is  impressed 
upon  us  by  our  very  constitution  with  a  peculiar  force,  a 
distinct  wave  of  sensibility,  and  is  thus  enabled  to  initiate  a 
rapid,  tidal  flow  of  feeling,  not  otherwise  possible.  In  early 
and  in  uncultivated  life,  that  which  is  novel  is  sought  for 
its  immediate  emotional  character.  The  grotesque,  the 
odd,  the  extravagant,  the  new,  the  new^s,  give  fresh  excite- 
ment, and  the  intrinsic  value  or  worthlessness  of  the  matter 
offered  to  the  mind  is  overlooked.  When  the  powers  are 
more  mature  or  more  cultivated,  wonder  becomes  a  second- 
ary, a  briefly  initiatory  impulse,  making  way  for  the  deeper 
satisfaction  of  recognized  truth ;  and  when  it  fails  to  yield 
this  pleasure,  it  drops  away  almost  at  once. 

This  law  is  connected  with  another  law  of  a  reverse 
nature.  Customary  things  are  more  pleasing  to  us,  uncus- 
tomary things  less  pleasing.  This  is  the  result  of  passive 
habit— of  the  silent  adaptation  of  body  and  mind  to  their 


366  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

surroundings.  This  law  is  likely  to  gain  ground,  as  years 
advance,  on  the  previous  law ;  and  both,  as  arising  from  the 
accident  of  circumstances,  need  to  be  guarded  against  by  a 
self-contained  spirit.  We  should  be  servants  neither  of  the 
old  nor  the  new. 

A  fifth  law  is.  The  feelings  of  men  are  harmonized  and 
greatly  increased  by  sympathy,  they  are  divided  and  in- 
tensified by  repugnance.  We  tend  decidedly  to  share  or  to 
reject  the  feelings  of  those  about  us.  The  one  impulse  is 
that  of  sympathy,  the  other  that  of  repugnance.  A  certain 
contaaious  force  belon2:s  to  emotion.  The  swell  of  senti- 
ment  among  masses,  like  the  surge  of  tlie  ocean,  is  heavy, 
forceful,  dominant.  It  is  difficult  to  maintain  feelings 
which  are  not  shared  by  those  about  us ;  it  is  difficult  to 
escape  the  influence  of  those  which  are  prevalent.  The 
minds  of  men  flow  into  each  other,  and  come  to  feel  and 
propagate,  with  increasing  power,  the  same  influences. 
Sympathy,  strictly  so  called,  does  not  change  the  character 
of  a  sentiment,  it  only  disseminates  it.  The  inflammable 
nature  of  the  feelings  by  which  assemblies,  mobs,  armies  are 
laid  open  to  conflagration,  each  tiring  his  neighbor,  till  all 
are  caught  up  in  one  uncontrollable  frenzy,  is  a  very  famil- 
iar fact.  A  less  significant  fact  is  that  of  repugnance.  If 
a  division  already  exists  between  men,  as  in  classes,  or  in 
religious  faith,  that  division  is  broadened  by  repugnance. 
All  tyranny  and  cruelty  are  enhanced  by  this  law.  The 
tears  of  an  enemy  beget  contempt  and  aversion,  not  pity. 
Laughter  we  do  not  share  seems  to  us  foolish.  If  we  join 
in  a  joke  at  our  own  expense,  its  sting  is  lost ;  if  w^e  do  not, 
the  amusement  of  others  angers  us. 

A  sixth  law  is,  Objects  and  acts  have,  in  reference  to 
the  feelings,  intrinsic  quality  and  associative  quality. 
The  last  quality,  which  is  frequently  the  stronger  of  the 
two,  and  may  be  more  or  less  in  conflict  with  native  force, 


LA  WS  OF  FEELING.  3G7 

is  due  to  the  part  that  objects  have  played  or  are  playing  in 
human  history. 

Our  feelings  become  grouped  in  memory  by  repeated 
experience,  and  on  each  recurrence,  restore  by  suggestive 
power  a  large  class  of  emotions  and  incentives  with  which 
they  have  previously  consorted.  Like  feelings  are  thus  con- 
solidated into  varied,  powerful  classes,  which  work  together 
on  the  mind,  one  feeling  never  arising  alone,  but  uniformly 
having  present  for  its  aid  some  of  its  familiar  companions. 
We  shall  not  understand  the  force  of  certain  passions  with- 
out comprehending  the  multiplied  echoes  which  they  find 
in  the  soul.  The  transforming  power  of  association  is  a 
cardinal  fact  in  the  feelino^s.  Still  association  can  create 
nothing ;  it  simply  combines  and  recombines  in  many  ways 
the  occasions  of  feeling,  working  up  life  into  an  ex]3erience 
of  a  definite  order. 

The  animation  of  the  feelings  is  also  frequently  depend- 
ent on  the  power  of  imagination.  Our  intellectual  emo- 
tions arise  in  connection  with  sensible  objects,  and  the  vivid- 
ness with  which  these  are  present  to  the  mind  will  deter- 
iTiine  the  degree  of  action  in  the  accompanying  sensibilities. 
The  passionate  and  the  poetic  temperament  are  influenced 
by  the  images  of  the  fancy.  The  clear  and  vivid  pictures 
of  the  imagination  arrest  the  attention,  and  arouse  the  pas- 
sions, till  they  come  baying  along  the  trail  of  indulgence, 
like  hounds  in  full  scent. 

The  nature,  character,  and  excitability  of  the  emotious 
are  diverse,  but  their  activity  at  any  one  time  depends, 
aside  from  direct  influences,  on  these  mental  conditions. 
Arising  out  of  intellectual  action,  they  are  especially  affected 
by  the  circumstances  and  conditions  of  that  action.  While 
the  pleasurable  feelings  are  evolved,  for  the  most  part,  in 
connection  with  successful  activity,  and  the  painful  ones  in 
coimection  with  baffled  effort,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that 


368  DYNAMICS  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

this  fact  explains  tlieir  very  nature,  or  identifies  action  with 
enjoyment.  It  only  indicates  the  relation  of  our  emotions 
to  the  ends  of  life,  but  leaves  them  each  to  be  understood 
in  its  simple,  intrinsic  character  by  experience.  The  great 
diversity  and  mobility  of  the  feelings,  and  the  subtile  way 
in  which  they  act  on  the  thoughts  and  are  acted  on  by  them, 
are  the  points  we  need  most  to  mark. 


BOOK   III. 
THE  WILL. 

§  1.  We  have  now  to  speak  of  tlie  i^ower  of  volition — 
the  centre  and  source  of  free  activity.  Willing  is  distin- 
guished from  thinking  and  feeling  in  its  positive  and  pecu- 
liar character  by  a  reference  to  consciousness — to  that  ex- 
perience in  which  its  phenomenal  nature  is  laid  open.  It, 
moreover,  bears  a  different  relation  to  action  from  that  of 
either  of  the  other  two,  and  this  may  be  pointed  out.  It 
stands  in  the  last,  the  most  immediate  connection  with  ef- 
fort. Exertion  is  prompted  by  feeling,  is  anticipated  and 
guided  by  thought,  is  initiated  and  maintained  by  volition. 
While  the  motive  lies  back  in  the  emotions,  the  final  deter- 
mination and  executive  impulse  of  free  action  are  found 
in  the  will.  The  intellect  is  instrumental  and  interme- 
diate in  its  office.  It  presents  objects  to  the  feelings,  and 
inquires  into  the  means  of  their  easiest,  safest  gratification. 

The  voluntary  powers  are  simple  as  compared  either 
with  those  of  thought  or  feeling.  Our  emotions  present  by 
far  the  most  numerous,  complex  and  varied  features  of  the 
mind.  Our  intellectual  faculties  are  relatively  few,  yet  ex- 
ceedingly subtile  in  their  inter-dependence  and  action.  Our 
voluntary  powers  are  yet  more  simple,  and  offer  their  chief 
difficulty  in  intrinsic  character,  in  the  problem  of  liberty. 
We  shall  first  speak  of  the  nervous  system  and  of  the  func- 
tions of  its  several  parts.  Kext  we  shall  consider  executive 
volitions,  and  later,  the  highest  form  of  volition — choice. 
The  first  division  of  volitions  is  into  primary  and  executive 
volitions.     The  ultimate  choice  is  that  which  presents  the 


370  THE   WILL. 

more  remote  objects  of  pursuit  in  reference  to  which  other 
volitions  are  simply  intermediate.  The  distinction  of  exec- 
utive volition  and  of  choice  while  a  very  real  one  is  also  a 
very  changeable  one.  Choices  may  have  every  degree  of 
generality ;  may  be  very  near  or  very  remote.  As  the 
primary  act  becomes  more  inclusive,  a  larger  number  of 
volitions  are  simply  executive.  As  a  subordinate  question 
becomes  more  indejDendent,  it  assumes  the  character  of 
a  choice.  One  may  decide  to  build  a  house,  and  it  may 
still  remain  to  him  to  determine  where,  when,  with  what 
materials,  in  what  style  he  shall  build.  The  same  volition 
may  be  termed  in  one  relation  a  choice,  and  in  another,  an 
executive  volition.  Choices  rise  into  more  and  more  gen- 
eral purposes,  and  executive  volitions  sink  into  and  unite 
with  automatic  action. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Nervous  System. 

§  1.  If  it  were  asked,  What  one  fact  more  than  any  other 
distinguishes  animal  life  collectively  from  vegetable  life  ?  we 
should  answer,  a  nervous  system  ;  not  merely  because  a  ner- 
vous system  is  confined  to  animal  life,  but  because  it  is  a 
controlling  condition  in  all  higher  forms  of  that  life.  This 
nervous  system,  though  either  wholly  wanting  or  very  ob- 
scure in  the  lower  forms  of  animal  life,  once  present,  as- 
sumes increasing  importance  with  every  step  upward.  In 
the  higher  animals  it  is  the  administrative  system,  whose 
modifications  contain  a  record  of  the  history  of  evolution. 

A  formal  distinction  between  vegetable  and  animal  life 
lies  in  the  much  greater  freedom  of  motion,  internal  and  ex- 
ternal, which  characterizes  animals.  The  primary  function 
of  the  nervous  system,  out  of  which  all  others  grow,  is  the 
facilitating  of  motion.  Motion  is  made  by  it  more  rapid, 
more  varied,  more  general,  more  concurrent.  Vegetable  life, 
in  exceptional  cases,  exhibits  definite  and  somewhat  rapid 
motion  under  external  stimuli ;  concurrent  movement  of 
parts  within  itself  for  an  end,  and  functional  activity  in 
prosecuting  that  end. 

It  thus  presents,  in  the  absence  of  a  nervous  system,  a 
clear  rudimentary  expression  of  the  primary  oflices  of  that 
system.  But  the  last  attainment  of  vegetable  life  becomes 
the  first  of  animal  life,  and,  as  specialized  in  the  nervous 
system,  the  means  of  its  enlargement.  This  system,  there- 
fore, is  the  pre-eminent  structural  factor  in  the  new  devel- 
opment.    By  means  of  it,  functions  of  many  ordei"s  proceed 


372  THE  NEB VO US  SYSTEM. 

concurrently  in  constant  interaction  within  the  body  ;  every 
portion  of  the  body  is  subject  to  more  or  less  rapid  change  ; 
and  special  members  of  the  body  and  the  whole  body  are 
set  in  motion  by  external  stimuli.  Thus  motion  becomes 
a  striking  feature  of  animal  life,  and  different  forms  of 
motion  distinguishing  features.  The  nervous  system  is  the 
means  at  once  of  the  inside  organizing  process,  and  also  of 
the  extended  interaction  with  the  environm.ent  which  ac- 
companies it.  A  general  knowledge  of  the  nervous  system, 
through  which  all  these  forms  of  activity  grow  up  together, 
is  necessary  as  a  means  of  apjDroaching  the  highest  phase 
of  development,  that  of  voluntary  action.  Yital  action  is  so 
closely  united  with  the  secondary  forms  of  voluntary  effort^ 
known  as  executive  volitions,  that  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
understand  these  without  some  general  apprehension  of  the 
mechanism  they  employ,  and  its  methods  of  play  under 
simple,  vital  forces. 

§  2.  Life  we  hold  to  be  a  suj^erior,  plastic  power,  work- 
ing pervasively,  yet  under  one  harmonious  plan  or  impulse 
in  all  parts  of  the  living  body.  This  life, — this  pre-emi- 
nent, peculiar  and  inscrutable  power,  whether  we  regard  it 
as  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Divine  hand,  or  as  a  dis- 
tinct existence,  is  the  maker  —  the  indispensable  architect 
of  that  most  strange  and  marvelous  of  structures,  a  living 
thing;  be  it  plant,  shrub,  tree,  insect,  bird,  beast,  or  man. 
Molecular,  chemical,  electric,  thermal  forces  are  the  means 
employed  ;  but  these  as  much  fail  to  explain  the  form  and 
relations  of  the  final  product,  the  wonderful  manner  of  its 
putting  up  and  repair,  as  do  the  stone,  mortar  and  timber, 
the  digging,  the  hewing,  and  the  heaving,  the  plan  and  pro- 
portions of  a  cathedral.  The  exact  thing  to  be  accounted 
for  is  that  on  which  these  blind  forces  cast  no  light.  How 
came  they  to  work  in  these  marvelous  relations  to  each 
other ;   how  to  institute  these  unusual  and  strange  condi- 


IMC.  .-Nervous  System  of  an  Ascidian.         Fig.  ..-Nervous  System  of  the  Sea  Urchin. 


B 


FiG.'s.— Nervous  System  of  the  Fresh- 
water Clam. 


Fig.  4.— Nervous  System  of  the  Oyster. 
a.  <i.  Ganglia  united  about  the  CEsophagus. 

d.    Posterior  ganglion. 
c.  c.     Gills. 


NERVES.  ■  373 

tions  of  various  and  complete  life,  a  power  which  they  no- 
where else  exhibit?  We  explain  the  action  within  tlie 
chemist's  retort  by  the  chemical  properties  of  the  material 
present,  but  the  retort  itself,  the  application  of  the  heat,  the 
proportion  of  the  ingredients,  the  experiment  as  an  experi- 
ment, must  find  a  solution  in  a  new,  an  intelligent  agency. 
Account  as  we  will  for  changes  that  go  on  in  the  blood,  that 
there  should  be  veins,  arteries,  such  a  fluid  as  the  blood, 
and  the  needed  combination  of  powers  to  propel  it ;  these 
and  like  adaptations  which  make  up  the  living  agent  meet 
with  no  explanation  in  simple,  molecular  forces.  Yet  these 
forces  always  and  everywhere  intervene  between  the  in- 
scrutable agent  and  the  phenomenal  result.  Under  a  phe- 
nomenal form,  they  are  the  second  facts  which  lie  back  of 
the  first — the  massive  product.  Molecular  movement  is  to 
the  living  structure,  what  the  mechanical  transfer  of  stone 
and  timber  is  to  the  edifice.  Many  of  the  changes  by 
which  the  animal  structure  is  built  up  and  renewed  take 
place  locally,  by  an  action  there  instituted.  But  as  the 
parts  of  the  body  are  reciprocally  interdependent,  the 
changes  of  one  part  must  be  correlated  and  exactly  har- 
monized with  the  wants  of  other  parts.  This  transfer  of 
vital  sympathy  is  affected  by  the  nervous  system. 

§  3.  The  essential  parts  of  a  nervous  system  are  nerves 
and  a  nerve  centre  or  ganglion.  It  is  the  office  of  the 
nerves  to  carry  stimuli  to  and  from  the  ganglia.  It  is  tlie 
office  of  ganglia  to  receive  stimuli,  and  to  redirect  them  so 
as  to  secure  fitting,  harmonious  action.  These  two  portions 
of  a  nervous  system  are  distinct  in  structure  and  color. 
The  nerves  are  white  and  fibrous,  the  dispersive  portion  of 
the  ganglia  is  gray  and  vescicular.  The  gray  centres  are 
usually  enclosed  in  the  white  matter.  Nerves  convey  im- 
pressions in  tv/o  directions,  and  are  hence  termed  aflt'erent 
and  efferent.     They  also  convey  two  kinds  of  stimuli,  or 


374  THE  NER  VO  US  S 7 STEM. 

better  perhaps  are  the  mediums  of  changes  which  give  rise 
to  two  distinct  results,  one  of  feeling  one  of  motion.    Hence 
they  are   termed  sensor  and  motor  nerves.      Yei:  the   ac- 
tion of  a  sensor  nerve  is  most  frequently  not  accompanied 
with  a  sensation.     Tlie  distinction  seems  to  lie  in  the  dif- 
ferent termini  of  the  two  sets  of  fibres,  closely  united  as 
they  are  in  their  sheaths  and  indistinguishable  in  structure. 
The  sensor  nerve  starts  in  a  sensor  surface,  and  ends  in  the 
gray  matter  of  a  ganglion ;  the  motor  nerve  starts  in  the 
same  gray  matter,  and  ends  in  a  muscle.     The  inscrutable 
changes  w^hich  take  place  in  a  nerve  in  the  transfer  of  an 
impression  have  no  more  likeness  to  the  sensor  or  motor  re- 
sult than  have  the  electric  states  of  a  wire  of  a  telephone 
to  the  sounds  at  the  termini.     The  sim]3lest  action  of  a  ner- 
vous system  is  termed  reflex.     It  is  the  immediate  response 
along  the  same  bundle  of  nerves  to  irritation,  by  action  in 
the  part  irritated.     Thus  the  foot  is  tickled,  and  immed- 
iately withdrawn.     The  response  to  stimuli  is  usually  much 
more  complex.     A  blow  is  aimed  at  the  face,  the  attitude 
is  changed,  the  head  turned  aside,  the  arm  upraised,  the 
pulse  quickened,  the  eyes  closed.     There  is  a  consensus  of 
actions  in  one  end.     These  responses  may,  without  the  in- 
tervention of  consciousness,  under  organic  stimuli,  become 
very  complex,  the  distribution  being  determined   by  that 
plastic  power  accumulated  along  the  entire  line  of  develop- 
ment.    When  these  actions  pertain  to  the  interplay  in  func- 
tions of  the  organs  of  the  body,  they  belong  to  the  organic 
life.     It  is  the  otiice  of  this  life  to  institute  and  sustain 
these  relations.      If   they  pertain  to  movements   directed 
toward  external  objects,  and  still  arise  from  organic  stimuli, 
they  belong  to  the  instinctive  life.     This  life  has  the  same 
base  as  the  organic  life,  and  is  hardly  more   than   it.     If 
consciousness  intervenes,  stimuli  pass  into  sensations,  while 
the  responsive  actions  become  still  more  extended  and  com- 


Fig.  5.— Nervous  System  of  Nudi 
branchiate. 

A 


Fig.  6.— Nervous  System  of  a  Caterpillar.* 


>• -^ 

Fig.  7.— Nervous  System  of  White  Ant. 


Fig.  8.— Nervous  System  of  Fly. 


*  Orton's  Comparative  Zoology. 


FORMS  OF  NER  VO  US  S  YSTEM.  375 

plex.  Tins  increase  of  complexity  is  clue  largely  to  the 
more  distinct  introduction  of  time.  Sensations  remain  in 
the  memory,  and  the  experiences,  also,  which  have  arisen 
under  them;  they  thus  serve  to  combine  actions  through 
long  periods.  Actions  and  sensations  united  by  the  media- 
tion of  consciousness  constitute  the  associative  life.  By  the 
intervention  of  reason,  still  broader  areas  and  longer  j^eriods 
may  be  included,  and  the  complexity  of  responsive  move- 
ment becomes  incomparably  greater.  These  combinations 
are  those  of  the  rational  life.  These  forms  of  life  do  not 
exist  by  exclusion,  but  by  the  inclusion  of  the  lower  under 
the  higher  ;  by  the  building  of  the  higher  on  the  lower. 

§  4.  The  simplest  form  of  the  nervous  system  is  that  of 
nerves  united  in  a  single  ganglion.  An  example  of  this  is 
seen  in  an  Ascidian,  belonging  to  the  class  of  Mollusks,  A 
first  step  of  combination  is  found  in  the  union  of  several 
proximately  equal  ganglia,  each  with  its  own  nerves,  to 
each  other  by  other  nerves.  Each  stimulus  thus  affects  not 
simply  its  own  ganglion,  but  other  ganglia,  and  the  reac- 
tion is  proportionately  extended.  The  star-fish  and  the  sea- 
urchin,  belonging  to  the  Radiates,  present  examples.  In 
the  star-fish,  a  circle  of  ganglia  are  gathered  about  the 
central  opening,  each  ganglion  being  also  connected  by 
nerves  Avith  the  ray  to  which  it  corresponds.  Thus  the 
stimuli  of  any  ray  act  on  all  rays.  A  third  form  of  the 
nervous  system  found  in  Mollusks,  as  the  fresh- water-clam 
and  the  oyster,  consists  of  several  unequal  ganglia,  some- 
what irregularly  distributed  through  the  body,  in  connec- 
tion with  leading  functions,  and  united  to  each  other  by  fil- 
aments or  by  cords.  Thus  the  oyster  has  a  large  230sterior 
ganglion  closely  connected  with  the  great  adductor  muscle, 
with  the  mantle,  and  ^vith  the  gills.  It  has  two  much 
smaller  ganglia,  situated  on  either  side  of  the  mouth  and 
united  above  and  below  it. 


o 


76  THE  NER  VO  US  SYSTEM. 


In  the  fartlier  development  of  this  division,  the  ganglia 
about  the  oesophagus  increase  in  number  and  size,  and  be- 
come the  controlling  nervous  centres.  Of  this  character 
are  the  nervous  systems  of  the  cuttle-fish  and  of  the  Aeoli- 
dse  or  Xudibranchiates.  The  head  thus  begins  to  take  its 
final  relation  to  the  nervous  system.  It  becomes  the  centre 
of  the  special  senses,  and  the  chief  source  of  stimuli.  This 
accumulation  first  takes  place  about  the  mouth,  the  leading 
organ  of  nutrition.  As  the  attainment  of  food  is  a  primary 
necessity,  this  effort  is  sup23orted  by  all  the  senses.  In  the 
vertebrates,  the  mouth,  though  it  is  no  longer  surrounded 
by  the  great  ganglia,  is  still  supported  by  the  sense  of  taste, 
touch,  smell,  and  less  directly,  by  sight  and  hearing.  While 
the  higher  life  rises  out  of  the  lower,  it  is  united  to  it  by 
the  old  bond  of  service. 

In  the  lower  Articulates,  as  larvae,  many  proximately 
equal  ganglia  corresponding  to  the  several  divisions  of  the 
body  are  united  to  each  other  by  a  longitudinal  cord.  The 
ganglia  of  the  head  only  slightly  predominate.  To  this 
bilateral  symmetry  the  nervous  system  begins  to  conform, 
and  the  nervous  cord  and  ganglia  become  double.  In  the 
higher  Articulates,  as  insects,  the  ganglia  show  more  subor- 
dination, and  are  frequently,  as  in  the  bee  and  the  fly,  gath- 
ered into  the  thorax  and  the  head,  the  two  seats  of  action 
and  perception.  It  is  here  that  instinctive  life  finds  its 
highest  development,  yet,  as  in  the  white-ant,  the  ganglia 
are  often  markedly  subdivided. 

In  the  Vertebrates,  cephilization  becomes  far  more  com- 
plete. If  we  start  with  brainless-fish,  and  close  the  series 
with  man,  we  have  traveled  from  a  uniform  spinal  cord  to 
:  a  complete  centralization  of  life,  and  subordination  of  it  in 
all  its  forms  to  consciousness. 

AVhen  we  observe  the  great  complexity  and  wonderful 
harmony  of  action  in  the  nervous  system  of  man,  and  also 


Fig.  9. — Brain  of  Carp. 

A.  Cerebral  hemispheres. 

B.  Optic  lobes. 

C.  Cerebellum. 


Fig.  10.  — Brain  of  the  Rabbit. 
A.  Cerebral  hemispheres. 


O.  Olfactory  bulbs. 
C.  Cerebellum. 


Fig.  II.— Arrangement  of  the  Brain.  The  Corpus  Callosum  (A),  the  Corpus  Striatum  (5), 
and  the  Optic  Thalamus  (C)  are  shown  in  dotted  outhne.  (D)  Pineal  body.  (£)  Corpora 
Quadrigemina.     (//)  Optic  nerve.     (/)  Olfactory  bulb.     (Z)  Medulla,     (il/)  Cerebellum. 


DEVELOPMENT.  ^71 

observe  the  slow  steps  of  progress  by  wliich  this  result  has 
been  reached,  we  shall  be  profoundly  impressed  by  the  fact, 
that  all  life  is  gathered  up  in  man  and  epitomized  by  him. 
The  several  strata  of  acquisition  lie  one  above  the  other  and 
directly  and  indirectly  support  each  other,  as  certainlj'^as  do 
the  several  layers  in  the  earth's  crust.  Organic  life  pre- 
pares the  way  for  instinctive  life,  and  the  two  grow  to- 
gether. These  in  turn,  while  sufficient  unto  themselves, 
are  the  needful  platform  for  associative  life,  and  associative 
life  makes  way  for  rational  life,  ready  to  use  all  below  it. 


CHAPTEE  11. 

The  Nervous  System  of  Man. 

%  1.  The  nervous  system,  the  medium  of  action,  per- 
vades the  entire  body  of  man.  An  intricate  net-work  of 
nerves  lies  over  the  surface  of  the  body,  spreads  through 
its  members,  and  is  gathered  in  certain  lines  and  centres  of 
nervous  communication.  There  is  no  pin-point  on  the  skin 
that  does  not  disclose  the  presence  of  nerves  ;  nor  an  organ 
which  does  not  show  itself  when  diseased  to  be  wrought 
into  the  nervous  web. 

The  collective  mass,  made  uj)  of  the  cerebrum,  the  cer- 
ebellum, the  pons  Varolii,  the  medulla  oblongata  and  the 
spinal  cord,  constitutes  the  nervous  centre,  the  cerebro- 
spinal axis. 

"  Beginning  with  the  spinal  cord, — which  we  have  seen 
to  be  a  rod  or  column  of  white  matter  or  fibres,  enclosing  a 
slender  core  of  grey  substance — if  we  trace  the  fibres  of  the 
cord  upwards,  we  find  them  continuing  into  the  medulla 
oblongata,  the  first  and  the  lowest  portion  of  the  brain.  Of 
the  whole  mass  of  fibres  entering  the  medulla  oblongata, 
the  larger  portion  pass  up  into  the  pons  Varolii  and  the 
cerebellum,  while  a  part  terminates  in  the  grey  substance 
of  the  medulla  itself ;  and  from  that  grey  substance  other 
fibres  take  their  rise  and  proceed  onward,  in  the  company 
of  the  through-going  fibres  of  the  cord.  Thus  the  emei-g- 
ing  white  matter  of  the  medulla  oblongata  is  partly  the 
fibres  that  entered  it  as  a  continuation  of  the  cord,  and 
partly  the  fibres  originating  in  tlie  grey  central  matter  of 


KiG.  12.— Brain  of  the  Cat  * 


Fig.  13.— Brain  of  the  Orang-utan. 


Fig.  14. -Human  Brain,  side  view.* 


Fig.  15.— Human  Brain,  upper  view. 


*  Orton's  Comparative  Zoolog}'. 


STRUCTURE  OF  THE  BRAIN.  379 

the  medulla,  replacing,  as  it  would  seem,  those  that  termin- 
ated there.  From  the  pons  Varolii,  where  we  come  next, 
the  white  fibres  advance  in  various  directions,  intersectino: 
with  transverse  fibres  connecting  the  two  halves  of  the 
cerebellum,  and  passing  upwards  towards  the  cerebrum  pro- 
per. The  fibres  thus  going  upwards  constitute  the  crura,  pe- 
duncles or  stems  of  the  cerebrum,  and  seem  destined  to  ter- 
minate in  the  grey  matter  of  the  convoluted  surface  of 
the  hemispheres.  But  in  j^assing  through  the  ganglia  of  the 
brain — the  thalami  optici,  and  corpora  striata — the  arrange- 
ment described  above  is  repeated  ;  that  is  to  say,  while  part 
of  the  fibres  proceed  through  the  ganglionic  masses,  the 
rest  stop  short  in  the  grey  substance  of  those  masses,  which 
grey  substance  gives  origin  to  other  fibres  to  pass  out  with 
those  that  had  an  uninterrupted  course  through  the  bodies 
alluded  to.  Both  sets  together — those  passing  through  and 
those  originating  in  the  grey  substance  of  the  corpora  stri- 
ata, or  thalami  optici,  constitute  a  portion  of  the  white  or 
fibrous  substances  of  the  hemispheres,  spreading  out  and 
terminating  in  the  grey  matter,  or  cortical  layer  of  the  con- 
volutions. They  are  the  first  of  three  classes  of  fibres,  de- 
scribed above,  as  constituting  the  white  matter  of  the  cere- 
brum, that  is  to  say,  the  ascending  or  diverging  class. 

Whatever  number  of  central  masses  we  may  calculate 
as  interposed  between  the  spinal  cord  beneath,  and  the  con- 
voluted surface  of  the  cerebrum,  the  manner  of  communica- 
tion between  them  is  found  to  be  as  now  stated.  The  fibres 
passing  between  one  intermediate  mass  and  another,  are 
partly  transmitted  and  partly  arrested.  Wherever  grey 
matter  exists,  there  is  the  commencement  or  termination  of 
white  matter.  The  fibres  that  enter  the  cerebellum  from 
the  medulla  oblongata  terminate  in  whole  or  in  part  in  its 
outer  layer  of  grey  substance,  and  in  that  substance  a  new 
set  of  fibres  originate  to  pass  to  other  parts  of  the  brain. 


380  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM  OF  3fAN. 

as  the  corpora  quadrigemina,  the  hemispheres,  etc.,  and 
from  one  half  of  the  cerebellum  to  the  other.  The  fibres 
spreading  out,  as  already  mentioned,  in  the  hemispheres 
toward  the  convoluted  grey  surface,  will  have  had  very 
various  origins.  Some  may  j)erhaps  have  come  all  the  way 
from  the  extremities  of  the  body,  passing  by  the  spinal 
cord,  medulla  oblongata,  cerebellum,  pons  Varolii,  thalami 
optici,  etc. ;  others  have  originated  in  the  grey  matter  of 
the  cord,  passing  without  a  break  through  all  the  interven- 
ing centres ;  a  third  class  may  have  had  their  rise  in  tlie 
grey  matter  of  the  pons,  a  fifth  in  the  cerebellum,  a  sixth 
in  the  corpora  quadrigemina ;  others  in  the  thalami  optici, 
or  corpora  striata  ;  besides  other  more  minute  sources. 

The  arrangement  may  thus  be  seen  to  resemble  the 
course  of  a  railway  train.  The  various  central  masses  are 
like  so  many  stations,  where  the  train  drops  a  certain  num- 
ber of  passengers  and  takes  up  others  in  their  stead,  whilst 
some  are  carried  through  to  the  final  terminus.  A  system 
of  telegraph  wires  might  be  formed  to  re23resent  exactly 
what  takes  place  in  the  brain.  If  from  a  general  terminus 
in  London,  a  mass  of  wires  were  carried  out  to  proceed 
towards  Liverpool,  and  if  one  wire  of  the  mass  were  to 
end  at  each  station,  while  from  the  same  station  new  wires 
arose,  one  for  every  station,  farther  on,  a  complete  and  per- 
fectly independent  connexion  could  be  kept  up  between 
any  two  stations  along  the  line."'^ 

The  nerves  are  divided  into  two  classes,  the  spinal  and 
the  cerebral ;  the  one  passing  into  the  body  along  the  spinal 
cord,  the  other  directly  from  the  brain.  The  nerves  go 
forth  in  pairs  from  the  spinal  cord,  passing  out  on  either 
side  between  the  vertebrae.  Of  this  class,  there  are  thirty- 
one  couples.  Each  of  these  nerves  is  divided  at  its  root, 
into  two  portions  termed   the  anterior  root  and   posterior 

*  Quain's  Anatomy. 


SPINAL  CORD.  381 

root.  These  portions  subserve  distinct  purposes.  The 
cerebral  nerves  are  composed  of  nine  pairs, — sometimes 
divided  as  twelve— four  of  pure  sensation,  terminating  in 
the  special  senses,  and  five  motor  nerves.  Nerves  from 
either  lobe  of  the  brain  terminate  in  the  opposite  half  of 
the  body.  Thus  the  dexterity  of  right-hand  work  in- 
volves a  discipline  of  the  left  lobe  of  J:he  brain.  This  lobe 
consequently  tends  to  greater  power. 

§  2.  The  spinal  cord  is  the  means  of  sensation  and  of 
movement  through  the  entire  trunk  and   extremities.     If 
this  cord  is  cut,  sensation  and  the  power  of  movement  by 
the  will  are  lost  in  the  parts  below  the  point  of  separation, 
The  power  of  movement  nevertheless  remains  under  local 
irritation   after  the   division.       Superficial  irritation   will 
cause  a   spasmodic   movement,   accomplished   by  a  reflex 
action  of  the  spinal  cord  alone.     Movements  closely  resem- 
bling voluntary  action,  of  which  the  individual  is  uncon- 
scious, and  which  he  cannot  control,  will,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, take  place  in  the  limbs.     The  circle  of  nervous 
action  is  completed  through  the  spinal  cord,  independently 
of  the  brain.     The  spinal  cord,  by  virtue  of  its  grey  matter, 
is  itself  a  nerve  centre.     Including  in  the  spinal  cord  the 
medulla  oblongata,  continuous  in  structure  and  functions 
with  it,  we  find  that  they,  independently  of  the  cerebrum 
and  of  consciousness  originate  and  sustain  many  movements. 
They  institute  and  harmonize  a  portion  of   the  automatic 
action  of  the  body.      Of  this  sort  are  movements  connected 
with  digestion.     After  the  food  has  passed  the  lips,  been 
tasted  and   masticated  in  the  mouth,  and  thus  been  fully 
subjected  to  inspection  and  voluntary  action,  it  goes  through 
the  remaining  processes  of  digestion,  dilution,  assimilation, 
without  further  consciousness   of   voluntary  action.      The 
contractions  of  the  throat,  the  peristaltic  movement  of  the 
stomach  and  intestines  are  accomplished  by  nervous  stimuli, 


382  THE  NER  VO  US  SYSTEM  OF  MAN. 

transmitted  from  the  medulla  oljlongata.  This  portion  of 
the  nervous  system  chiefly  sustains  the  muscular  action  in 
breathing.  This  is  complex  and  rhythmical,  nicely  alterna- 
ting in  the  states  indicated,  and  in  the  muscular  action  in- 
duced. To  receive  and  combine  the  indications  of  the 
actual  state  of  the  lungs,  and  to  distribute  to  the  muscles 
the  appropriate  stimuli,  so  far  as  the  movement  is  stated 
and  involuntary,  is  a  portion  of  the  office  of  the  medulla 
oblongata.  This  action  is,  moreover,  capable  of  being  modi- 
fied, arrested,  or  quickened  by  voluntary  effort. 

In  the  same  way  the  support  and  harmonizing  of  volun- 
tary muscular  movements  generally  are  referred  with  suffi- 
cient proof  to  the  cerebellum.     By  far  the  larger  part  of 
this  action  is  involuntary  and  unconscious,  though  voluntary 
stimuli  reach  and  modify  it.     A  portion  of  this  sustaining 
influence  of  the  voluntary  muscles  is  received  from  the  spi- 
nal cord,  to  wit,  that  which  gives  them  always  a  certain  ten- 
sion or  tone,  distinguishing  them  from  lifeless    flesh,  and 
maintaining  them  in  readiness  for  instant  effort.     That  the 
harmonizing  and  co-ordinating  of  muscular  movement  are 
due  to  the  cerebellum,  is  shown  by  proof  briefly  presented 
in  the  following  passage  from  Todd  and  Bowman,  page  50. 
"  Animals  deprived  of  the  cerebellum  are  in  a  condition 
very  similar  to  that  of  a  drunken  man,  so  far  as  relates  to 
their  power  of   locomotion.     They  are  unable  to  produce 
that   combination   of   action   in   different   sets   of  muscles 
which  is  necessary  to  enable  them  to  assume,  to  maintain 
any  attitudes.     They  cannot  stand  still  for  a  moment,  and  in 
attempting  to  walk,  their  gait  is  unsteady,  they  totter  from 
side  to  side,  and  their  progress  is  interrupted  by  frequent 
falls.     The  fruitless  attempts  which  they  make  to  stand  or 
walk  are  sufficient  proof  that  a  certain  degree  of  intelligence 
remains,  and  that  voluntary  power  continues  to  be  enjoyed." 
The  cerebrum,  on  the  other  hand,  is  directly  connected 


OFFICE  OF  CEREBRUM.  383 

with  all  voluntary  and  conscious  action.  We  present  its 
functions  in  tlie  words  of  Bain,  to  whom  we  are  especially 
indebted  in  this  connection.  "  Experiments  have  been  made 
with  a  view  of  determining  the  characteristic  functions  of 
this  cerebral  mass,  so  large  in  the  human  brain,  although 
dwindling  to  the  most  insignificant  dimensions  in  the  low- 
est vertebrate  animals,  namely,  reptiles  and  fishes. 

"The  convolutions  are  the  portions  most  accessible  to 
operations.  The  hemispheres  have  been  seen  above  to  con- 
sist of  an  outer  layer  of  convoluted  grey  matter,  and  an  in- 
terior mass  of  white,  fibrous,  or  connecting  matter.  When 
irritation  is  applied  to  the  hemispheres,  as  by  pricking  or 
cutting,  we  find  a  remarkable  absence  of  the  effects  mani- 
fested in  the  other  centres.  Neither  feeling  nor  movement 
is  produced.  This  makes  a  very  great  distinction  between 
the  hemispheres  and  the  whole  of  the  ganglia  and  centres 
lying  beneath  them. 

"  Pressure  from  above  downwards,  produces  stupor. 
"  The  removal  of  both  hemispheres  in  an  animal  has  the 
following  results : 

''  First :  Sight  and  hearing  are  entirely  lost, 
"Second:    Consciousness,   including  both   feeling    and 
thought,  seems  utterly  abolished :  so  that  whatever  bodily 
activity  may  survive,  the  mental  life  is  extinct. 

"  Third :  All  power  of  moving  for  an  end,  all  fore- 
thought, purpose,  or  volition,  is  entirely  extinguished. 
This  is  an  inevitable  consequence  of  the  preceding  fact. 
For  without  feeling  and  the  memory  of  feelings  and  ideas 
there  can  be  no  voluntary  action.  The  simple  act  of  seiz- 
ing food  implies,  besides  the  power  of  sight,  the  feeling  of 
hunger,  and  the  mental  association  of  the  appearance  of  the 
food  with  the  satisfying  of  the  feeling. 

"  Fourth :  The  power  of  accomplishing  many  connected 
movements  still  remains.     The  actions  of  flying  or  walking 


384  THE  NEM  V-  US  SYSTEM  OF  MAN. 

may  be  sustained  after  the  loss  of  the  hemispheres,  but  iu 
that  case  a  stimiihis  from  without  is  necessary  in  order  to 
commence  the  action.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  automatic 
actions,  those  that  we  have  seen  to  go  on  in  the  decapitated 
or  anencephalous  animal,  may  still  proceed. 

"  Fifth :  The  sensibility  of  the  skin,  and  taste,  and  smell 
would  appear  to  remain  in  a  greatly  impaired  form.  Such 
sensibility,  however,  cannot  be  of  the  nature  of  true  sensa- 
tion, for  to  have  a  sensation  is  to  feel.  It  may  consist  in 
some  mode  of  reflex  stimulation,  operated  through  the  other 
centres.  By  operating  energetically  on  any  nerve  of  sense, 
we  may  excite  reflex  movements  extending  over  almost  all 
the  muscles  of  the  body. 

"  Hence  it  appears  that  the  hemispheres  of  the  brain  are 
indispensable  to  the  exercise  of  our  two  highest  senses,  and 
to  feeling,  volition,  and  thought." — The  Semises,  and  the  In- 
tellect, page  57. 

That  the  higher  senses,  however,  aside  from  the  con- 
nection of  their  ganglia  with  the  cerebral  hemispheres, 
act  purely  automatically,  is  shown  by  facts  of  vivisection 
given  by  Taine  in  his  work  on  Intelligence,  p.  155.  "  Here 
is  a  pigeon,  whose  cerebral  lobes  are  entirely  removed,  but 
whose  corpora  bigemina  remain.  When  I  suddenly  put  my 
hand  near  it,  it  makes  a  slight  movement  of  the  head  to 
avoid  the  threatened  danger."  This  fact,  then,  presents 
automatic  movement  through  the  highest  special  sense,  en- 
tirely aside  from  conscious  control,  or  conscious  activity. 
The  ordinary  action  of  the  eye  in  perception  is  therefore  a 
state  superinduced  on  a  purely  organic  power,  and  gives  a 
striking  illustration  of  the  descent  of  the  conscious  into  the 
unconscious  life,  and  its  control  over  it. 

The  offices  of  the  several  parts  of  the  nervous  system  in 
man  may  be  briefly  summarized  as  follows;  all  portions 
save  the  highest  are  mediums  of  general  communication ; 


GRADES  OF  NER  VO  US  ACTION.  385 

the  spinal  cord  is  a  secondary  centre  of  muscular  action ; 
the  medulla  oblongata  is  an  automatic  centre  of  organic 
action ;  the  cerebellum  harmonizes  voluntary  action ;  the 
pons  Varolii  is  a  subsidiary  automatic  centre  to  the  cerebel- 
lum ;  the  cerebrum  is  the  source  of  all  conscious  activity ; 
the  mesencephalic  ganglia — optici  thalami,  corpora  striata, 
corpora  quadrigemina,  corpora  geniculata  —  are  automatic 
centres  subordinate  to  the  cerebrum.  The  sympathetic 
system,  not  included  in  the  cerebro-spinal-axis,  serves  the 
purposes   of   purely   organic   harmony   in    strictly   animal 

life. 

§  3.  We  are  now  prepared  to  understand  that  vital,  ner- 
vous action  which  is  not  voluntary,  but  anticipatory  merely. 
Its  first  most  simple  form  is  that  of  reflex  action — super- 
ficial irritation  returned  directly  from  a  nervous  centre  as 
motor  stimulus.     This,   detached   nervous  ganglia  accom- 
plish in  animal  life,  and  the  divided  spinal  cord  in  man, 
An  advance  on  this  is  seen  in  continuous,  vital  movement 
accomplished  by  a  special  nervous  centre,  like  the  medulla 
oblongata,  wholly  involuntary  and  beyond  the  cognition  of 
the  mind.     A  farther  progress  is  seen  in  that  mixed  action 
which  is  chiefly  involuntary,  and  sustained  by  a  nervous 
centre  as  the  cerebellum,  w^hich  is  not  the  seat  of  conscious- 
ness, but   is   intimately  connected  with  a  second  nervous 
centre  the  cerebrum,  from  which  it  receives  voluntary  in- 
fluences.     A  still  more  intimate  blending  of    the  higher- 
and  lower  life  takes  place  through  the  mediation  of  mesen- 
cephalia  ganglia.     Stimuli  which  come  through  the  superior 
senses  as  sensations  are  carefully  united  with  fitting  organic 
actions, — as  clear  articulation  in  reading — and  shortly  the 
two  become  an  automatic  combination.     The  highest  action 
is  that  which  remains  throughout  under  the  guidance  of 
consciousness.     That  we  should  understand  this  blending  of 
the  automatic  and  the  voluntary  is  indispensable  to  a  right 


386  THE  NER  VO  US  SYSTEM  OF  MAN. 

apprehension  of  tlie  will.     At  tliis  point,  physical  inquiry 
has  been  very  fruitful  in  its  influence  on  philosophy. 

Saj's  Bain,  page,  63  :  "The  conductiMg  power  of  nerve 
fibre  is  attended  with  nervous  waste,  and  the  substance  has 
to  be  constantly  renewed  from  the  blood,  which  is  largely 
supjDlied  to  the  nerves,  although  not  so  largely  as  to  the 
vesicles.  If  now  we  comj^are  this  liability  to  waste  and  ex- 
haustion, with  the  undying  endurance  of  an  electric  wire, 
we  shall  be  struck  with  a  very  great  contrast.  The  wire  is 
doubtless  a  more  compact,  resisting  and  sluggish  mass ;  the 
conduction  requires  a  certain  energy  of  electric  action  to 
set  it  agoing,  and  in  the  course  of  a  great  distance  becomes 
faint  and  dies  away.  The  nerve,  on  the  other  hand,  is  stim- 
ulated  by  a  slighter  influence,  and  propagates  that  influence 
with  increase,  by  the  consumption  of  its  own  material. 
The  wire  must  be  acted  on  at  both  ends,  by  the  closure  of 
the  circuit,  before  acting  as  a  conductor  in  any  degree  ;  the 
nerve  takes  flre  from  a  sliglit  stimulus,  like  a  train  of  gun- 
powder, and  is  wasted  by  the  current  that  it  propagates. 
If  this  view  be  correct,  the  influence  conveyed  is  much 
more  beholden  to  the  conducting  fibres,  than  electricity  is 
to  the  copper  wire.  The  fibres  are  made  to  sustain  or  in- 
crease the  force  at  the  cost  of  their  own  substance. 

"  The  nerve  force  is  propagated  more  slowly  than  an 
electric  current  through  a  wire.  The  rate  has  been  esti- 
mated at  about  two  hundred  feet  a  second  as  an  avera2:e. 
It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  a  nerve  is  not  a  simple  conductor, 
but  is  supposed  to  consist  of  a  countless  number  of  mole- 
cules, each  of  which  has  playing  round  it  an  electrical  cur- 
rent, or  currents,  which  are  an  obstacle  to  the  simple  or  di- 
i-ect  propagation.  There  is  always  a  certain  delay  in  pass- 
ing tln-ough  the  nerve  centres ;  a  reflex  movement  occupies 
from  one-thirtieth  to  one-tenth  of  a  second  under  favorable 
v-circumstances,  which  is  more  time  than  would  be  required 


BRAIN  IN  MAN.  '  387 

for  transmitting  an  influence  throngli  the  same  length  of 
nerve  without  interruption.  When  the  stimulus  is  weak,  a 
proportionately  longer  time  is  required  to  produce  the  cor- 
responding movement.  We  may  hence  infer  that  what  is 
called  nervous  excitement  is  a  quicker  rale  of  the  nervous 
current.     The  obvious  facts  bear  out  this  view." 

These  then  are  the  means  by  which  an  external  force  is 
received,  modified  and  distributed  in  centres  ;  by  which  an 
internal  state  directs  and  secures  the  succeeding  steps  in 
vital  movement ;  by  which  an  inner  impulse  of  the  mind  is 
made  in  muscular  effort  to  reach  the  external  world ;  or  by 
which  these  vital  and  mental  forms  of  effort  are  inseparably 
blended. 

§  4.  The  superiority  of  the  Vertebrates  in  the  animal 
kingdom  is  indicated  by  the  presence  and  growing  power 
of  the  cerebrum,  the  organ  of  conscious  action ;  and  the 
predominance  of  the  voluntary  life  in  man  is  disclosed  at 
the  same  point.  The  supreme  relation  of  the  cerebrum  in 
man  to  the  other  ganglia  is  seen  in  its  absolute  size,  its  rela- 
tive size,  its  increase  in  relative  size  through  all  the  grades 
of  animal  intelligence ;  in  the  number  and  depth  of  its  cor- 
ruo-ations,  and  the  amount  of  blood  it  receives.  Starting 
down  no  lower  than  the  cod,  we  find  the  cerebral  lobes 
smaller  than  the  optic  ganglia,  and  on  a  par  with  the  olfac- 
tory ganglia.  As  we  pass  up  they  increase  in  absolute  or 
in  relative  size,  or  in  both,  till,  in  man,  they  have  stretched 
over  and  covered  all  the  associated  ganglia,  multiplied  man- 
ifold their  relative  dimensions, —  relative  in  reference  to 
other  ganglia,  and  in  reference  to  the  size  of  the  body — 
and  become  truly  the  superincumbent,  overshadowing  hem- 
ispheres of  thought. 

It  is,  however,  in  the  combination  of  relations  that 
man's  great  superiority  is  found,  and  not  in  any  one  of 
tliem  alone.     In  absolute  weight  of  brain  he  is  surpassed 


388  THE  NER  VO  US  SYSTEM  OF  MAN. 

by  the  elephant  and  the  whale ;  and  in  weight  relative  to 
that  of  the  body  by  many  of  the  smaller  birds.  There 
must  be  farther  considered  the  proportion  of  the  grey  to 
the  white  tissue."^  The  four  particulars  combined,  absolute 
size,  size  in  reference  to  the  body,  size  of  the  cerebrum  in 
reference  to  other  ganglia,  the  proportion  between  the  grey 
and  the  white  matter,  assign  man  his  pre-eminent  j^osition. 
We  shall  see  the  importance  of  the  last  particular  when  we 
remember  that  the  nervous  system  is  an  instrument  of  trans- 
mitting impressions,  and  also  of  thoughts  :  that  physical  ac- 
tivity and  mental  activity  are  dependent,  the  first  more 
immediately  on  the  medium  of  transmission,  the  white 
matter ;  the  second  on  the  medium  of  interior  activity,  the 
grey  matter.  Great  muscular  development,  as  in  the  bird, 
may,  therefore,  carry  with  it  a  relatively  large  nervous  de- 
velopment. 

"As  we  rise  through  the  mammalian  series  towards 
man,  we  find  not  only  a  marked  increase  in  the  ahsohite 
bulk  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres^  and  a  yet  greater  relative 
excess  in  their  size  as  compared  with  the  aggregate  of  that 
of  the  sensory  ganglia,  but  an  augmentation  of  their  func- 
tional powers  beyond  all  proportion  to  their  size,  which  is 
derived  from  the  peculiar  manner  in  which  their  ganglionic 
matter  is  disposed.  In  all  ordinary  ganglia,  the  nerve-cells, 
on  whose  presence  their  special  attributes  depend,  form  a 
sort  of  internal  nucleus ;  but  in  the  cerebrum  they  are 
spread  out  on  the  surface,  forming  an  external  or  cortical 
layer.  This  layer  is  covered  by  a  membrane  termed  the 
pia  mater  which  is  entirely  composed  of  blood-vessels,  held 
togetlier  by  connective  tissue  ;  and  thus  a  copious  supply 
of  blood  is  brought  to  this  important  part.  But,  the  ex- 
tent of  the  cortical  layer,  and  of  its  contact  with  the  pia 
mater  is  enormously  increased  by  its  being  thrown  into 
*  Journal  of  Nervous  and  Mental  Disease,  Jan.,  187G.     First  Article. 


BRAIN  IN  MAN.  389 

folds,  so  as  to  produce  what  is  known  as  the  convolxited 
surface  of  the  hemisplieres."  •  •  •  "  In  the  higher  orders 
of  Mammalia,  the  convolutions  are  well  marked ;  but  we  do 
not  find  them  either  numerous  or  complex  in  their  arrange- 
ment till  we  approach  Man."*  "  While  the  brain  in  man 
is  about  one-fortieth  of  the  weight  of  the  body,  it  receives 
from  one-fifth  to  one-sixth  of  the  whole  circulating  blood. f 
In  the  position  of  the  cerebrum,  superincumbent  and  exter- 
nal, in  its  enlarged  size  and  greatly  enlarged  activity,  we 
have  a  plain  physical  expression  of  the  degree  in  w^hich  in 
man  the  conscious  life  overshadows,  envelops,  and  takes  in 
charge  the  organic  life.  "  It  may  be  doubted  whether  a 
healthy  human  adult  brain  ever  weighed  less  than  thirty- 
one  or  thirty-two  ounces,  or  whether  the  heaviest  brain  of 
a  gorilla  has  exceeded  twenty  ounces.":]:  Yet  the  gorilla 
with  a  brain  of  twenty  ounces  would  w^eigh  twice  as  much 
as  the  man  with  a  brain  of  thirty-one  ounces.  The  largest 
human  brain  weighs  sixty-five  or  sixty-six  ounces. 

That  the  two  functions  of  the  brain,  its  motor  function 
and  its  reflective  function,  are  somewhat  separate  from  each 
other,  and  somewhat  exclude  each  other,  is  plain.  Great 
power  of  reflection  is  attended  by  an  indisposition  to  activ- 
ity, and  great  muscular  activity  by  a  like  indisposition  and 
inability  for  reflection.  A  small  and  active  bird,  like  a 
snow-bunting,  demands  relatively  a  very  large  nervous  sys- 
tem to  maintain  the  heat  and  intense  life  needful  to  meet 
its  circumstances.  Such  size,  therefore,  does  not  indicate 
corresponding  intelligence.  Though  our  knowledge  is  not 
sufficient  to  enable  us  to  say,  that  muscular  activity  is 
always  accompanied  with  a  predominance  of  white  matter, 
and  reflective  activity  with  the  predominence  of  grey  mat- 
ter, yet  the  relations  of  the  two  parts  of  the  nervous  system 

*  Mental  Physiology,  p.  93.  f  Ibid  p.  39. 

\  Man's  Place  in  Nature,  p.  120 


390  THE  NER  VO US  SYSTEM  OF  MAN. 

seem  to  indicate  tliis.  The  conspicuous  way  in  wliich  the 
least  thought  inteiTU23ts  the  flow  of  perceptions  is  seen  in 
an  effort  to  count  the  flying  2)osts  when  a  railroad  train  is 
in  motion.  We  easily  discern  them  as  separate,  and  can 
give  a  tap  of  the  flnger  for  each  one,  long  after  the  motion 
becomes  too  rapid  for  a  distinct  enumeration.  The  distinct 
recognition  of  each  post,  and  its  addition  to  the  number 
already  reached,  is  relatively  a  slow  process. 


CHAPTEK    III. 

Executive  Volition. 

§  1.  We  are  to  distinguish  executive  from  primary  voli- 
tion. Primary  volition  is  frequently  termed  clioice,  and 
there  is  no  objection  to  the  word,  if  we  carefully  exclude 
from  it  the  intellectual  weighing  of  reasons,  the  balancing 
of  inducements,  which  often  accompany  it.  The  volition 
is  not  in  these,  but  in  the  act  which  brings  them  to  a  con- 
clusion. A  choice  initiates  a  series  of  acts  in  reference  to 
an  object  to  be  reached  by  them  ;  an  executive  volition  re- 
gards the  performance  of  these  acts  thus  determined  on. 

The  primary  volition  is  the  true  seat  of  freedom,  since 
subsequent  acts  flow  necessarily  from  it.  This  choice  may 
indeed  be  reconsidered,  but  so  long  as  it  remains  in  force, 
so  long  as  it  is  a  purpose  of  the  soul,  the  acts  included  un- 
der it  flow  directly  from  it,  fixed  thereby  in  their  character. 
An  alternative  is  presented  to  the  first  volition,  not  to  those 
later  volitions  by  which  it  is  completed.  These  may  be 
looked  upon  simply  as  the  prolonged  force  of  the  first,  as 
much  so  as  the  repeated  shocks  of  the  ricochetting  cannon- 
ball  are  the  results  of  an  impulse  received  at  once  and  in 
the  distance. 

Executive  volitions  are  successive  points  from  which 
fresh  executive  impulse  is  given  to  a  series  of  actions 
whose  existence  and  purpose  have  already  been  determined. 
Some  have  striven  to  separate  widely  between  volition  and 
choice.  The  division  is  a  secondary  one,  covered  by  this 
distinction  between  executive  and  primary  volition.     These 


392  EXECUTIVE  VOLITION. 

secondary  volitions  springing  out  of  consciousness,  though 
properly  phenomena  of  mind,  become  inseparably  blended 
with  those  automatic,  unconscious  movements  by  which 
most  vital  action,  and  the  larger  share  even  of  what  is 
termed  voluntary  action,  are  sustained. 

§  2.  The   voluntary  and   conscious  region  of   action  is 
evidently  very   much  more  limited  in  the  lower  animals 
than  in  man.     We  might  expect  this  from  the  much  larger 
relative  development  of  the  secondary,  nervous  centres,  as 
compared  with   the  cerebrum — the  seat  or  instrument  of 
conscious  activity — in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.     A 
command  of  limbs,  a  power  and  discipline  of  muscle,  which 
with   man  are  the  result  of  protracted  training,  are  spon- 
taneous in  the  young  of  animals.     Ko  conscious,  tentative 
effort  seems   to  lie  back  of  their  powers.      They  develop 
themselves  spontaneously,  with  the  precision,  certainty  and 
rhythm  of   automatic  life.      Stimuli,    sensations   do   their 
work  directly,  and  when  as  feelings  they  enter  consciousnes, 
they  seem  to  depart  thence  with  an  automatic,  rather  than 
with  a  voluntary  impulse,  with  the  decision  and  certainty 
of   a   self-sustained  movement,  rather  than  with  the  hesi- 
tancy and  uncertainty  of  choice.     With  primary  volitions, 
secondary  volitions  also  disappear,  and  the   conscious  and 
unconscious   feelings,  or,  more  properly,  the   feelings  and 
unrecognized  physical  states,  blend  with  each  other  in  se- 
curing fitting  muscular  action. 

In  man,  in  connection  with  choice,  there  enters  into 
action  a  large  element  of  both  conscious  and  voluntary  im- 
pulses, and  these  mingle  with,  and  modify,  and  are  sustained 
by,  the  involuntary  action  of  lower  nervous  centres.  In- 
deed, the  acquisition  of  skill  seems  to  consist  in  transfer- 
ring the  nervous  impulse  from  the  conscious  to  the  uncon- 
scious centres,  or  at  least  in  sustaining  the  one  by  the  au- 
tomatic action  of  the  other.     The  distinct,  conscious,  volun- 


VOL  UNTAR  T  AND  INVOL  UNTAR  T  ACTION.        39 


r» 


tary  impulse  of  each  effort  in  the  combined  movement  is 
lost,  and  the  changing  conditions  developed  by  the  progress 
itself  of  action,  —  be  these  recognized  or  unrecognized  — 
with  increasing,  self-poised  force  sustain  it.  Here,  we 
would  look,  so  far  as  we  would  look  at  all,  for  the  sub-con- 
scious region  of  Hamilton  and  others.  It  is  in  the  case  of 
the  w^ill  found  in  purely  physical  phenomena  which  trans- 
pire chiefly  in  the  lower  nervous  centres,  or,  if  in  the  cere- 
brum, in  it  simply  as  a  nervous  centre  and  not  as  the  agent 
of  mind.  Here  the  physical  and  the  mental  are  closely 
united,  inseparably  blended  with  each  other,  and  muscular 
education  lies  in  substituting  involuntary  for  voluntary  con- 
nections— in  establishing  an  independent  movement  which 
the  mind  may  at  any  moment  modify  or  correct,  but  is  not 
called  upon  momentarily  to  sustain.  Thus  we  quicken  or 
check  inspiration,  though  the  ordinary  action  of  the  lungs 
proceeds  independently  of  the  will.  Again,  we  wink  when 
we  will,  yet  wink  constantly  also  under  a  purely  vital  im- 
pulse. The  movements  in  walking  are  illustrations  of  this 
interlacing  of  the  voluntary  and  involuntary — the  slow  dis- 
placement of  the  one  by  the  other.  A  walk  determined 
on,  the  mind  may  busy  itself  with  other  things,  and  the 
muscular  play  be  unconsciously  sustained.  If,  however, 
any  portion  of  the  way  presents  peculiar  difficulties,  atten- 
tion is  renewed,  and  a  voluntary  stimulus  quickens  the 
muscles  to  the  needed  effort.  The  leap  made,  the  embar- 
rassments overcome,  the  automatic  movement  again  sets  in. 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  more  complete  example  of  self- 
sustained  action,  reached  as  the  result  of  protracted,  volun- 
tary effoi-t,  than  that  of  reading.  In  fluent  enunciation,  the 
organs  of  speech  are  modified  each  minute  so  as  to  express 
several  hundred  distinct  sounds.  These  rapid  and  precise 
changes  go  on  unconsciously.  There  is  no  direct,  volun- 
tary impulse  back  of  them.     So  far  is  this  true,  that  it  is 


394  EXECUTIVE  VOLITION. 

* 

entirelj  possible  to  read  intelligibly  with  no  conscious  rec- 
ognition, not  only  of  the  meaning  of  the  words,  but  even 
of  the  letters  which  compose  them.  One,  in  moments  of 
abstraction ,  may  find  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  with 
no  proof  of  having  passed  over  its  contents,  except  the  at- 
tention of  others,  and  the  point  reached  by  the  eye.  Such 
reading,  while  it  progresses,  is  as  involuntary,  as  purely 
automatic,  as  the  inhalation  of  the  breath  which  makes  it 
possible.  jN'or  is  the  sensible  effect  of  the  images  present 
to  the  eye  on  the  muscles  of  the  throat  in  guiding  and  im- 
pelling them  any  more  surprising  than  the  declaration  each 
instant,  at  the  nervous  centre,  of  the  state  of  the  lungs,  and 
the  correlative  return  of  stimulus.  Executive  volitions, 
then,  are  greatly  modified  by  the  interplay  of  voluntary 
and  involuntary  action;  by  the  ease  with  which  the  second 
displaces  the  first,  and  yet  can  be  restored  at  option  to  its 
former  character. 

§  3.  That  the  cerebrum  is  the  exclusive  seat  of  con- 
sciousness, or  rather,  that  consciousness  is  directly  asso- 
ciated with  its  action  alone,  has  become  very  plain.  Yet 
in  one  sense  it  is  the  most  dependent  of  the  nervous  gan- 
glia, since  the  other  centres  minister  to  it,  furnish  its  data, 
and  its  connections  are  indirect  through  them.  The  great 
mass  of  action,  the  automatic  action  of  the  body,  is  sus- 
tained by  lower  centres,  while  conscious  and  voluntary  in- 
fluences alone  pass  out  from  the  cerebrum.  The  will-im- 
pulse, striking  down  into  this  unconscious  region,  is  blind 
as  to  the  method  of  its  fulfillment,  pushing  its  way  ten- 
tatively through  automatic  connections.  We  will  an  un- 
usual movement,  as  the  successive  separation  of  tlie  fingers 
on  tlie  hand,  or  the  articulation  of  a  strange  sound.  We 
purpose  the  result  while  the  means  are  hidden  from  us  ;  by 
some  these  are  hit  on  at  once,  by  others  they  are  reached  with 
difficulty.     There  lies  below  onr  conscioiis  life  a  measurably 


DEVELOPMENT.  395 

comiDlete  and  independent  organic  life,  whose  functions  are 
placed  partially  within  the  reach  of  mind,  and  among  whose 
activities  may  be  introduced  many  others  of  a  voluntary 
character.  The  mind  thus  executes  its  will  through  the 
body,  much  as  one  accomplishes  his  service  by  a  servant. 
Nor  is  the  mind  left  without  the  means  of  training  this  ser- 
vant to  increased  efficiency.  Its  powers  and  tastes  are  slowly 
transferred  as  skill  to  the  body,  and  begin  to  flow  on  in  the 
current  of  inheritance  as  a  new  exaltation  of  physical  life. 
Organic  action  precedes  the  nervous  system.  This  sys- 
tem, automatic  in  its  play,  enters  to  enlarge  these  organic 
functions,  and  sustain  them  by  a  variety  of  muscular  ac- 
tivity. 

In  this  unconscious  circuit  appear,  in  a  reflex  automatic 
form,  the  conditions  of  general  sensation,  and,  later,  the  or- 
gans of  special  sensation.  At  length  these  tlireads  of  un- 
conscious relations  are  united  still  more  closely  by  con- 
sciousness, and  a  strictly  mental  dependence  begins  to  ap- 
pear. Sensations  as  sensations  are  associated  by  memory, 
and  the  new  connections  have  the  force  of  a  judgment.  On 
this  plane,  animal  life,  supported  by  a  sensitive,  complex 
organism  and  strong  instinctive  connections,  develops  itself. 
In  man,  there  arise,  finally,  the  intuitions,  acting  as  a  yet 
higher  and  more  rational  consciousness.  The  processes 
winch  before  proceeded  as  feelings  now  transpire  as  thoughts 
and  accept  voluntary  guidance.  The  rational  life  is  put  in 
full  possession  of  its  powers.  The  great  mass  of  action  in 
the  animal  kingdom  lies  far  down  in  the  dark  region  of  or- 
ganic effects,  where  most  of  it,  even  in  man,  still  remains, 
yet  with  him  it  has  assumed  quite  new  dependencies. 

In  reference  to  the  will,  we  may  divide  human  actions, 
into  four  classes  :  involuntary,  voluntary-involuntary,  invol- 
untary-voluntary and  voluntary.  These  actions  dimin- 
ish  in  number  and  increase  in  significance  in  the  several 


396  EXECUTIVE  VOLITION. 

classes  as  we  pass  upward.  The  second  class  includes  ac- 
tion resting  on  an  organic  basis,  as  breathing,  but  pene- 
trated by  the  will.  The  third  class  covers  action  initiated 
by  the  will,  but  passed  over  to  organic  connections,  as  those 
of  walking  or  reading.  In  the  fourth  class,  the  dependen- 
cies remain  variable  and  purely  voluntary.  It  is  doubtless 
impossible  to  find  any  complex  movement  which  is  wholly 
supported  by  executive,  voluntary  effort.  Even  when  we 
utter  our  own  thoughts,  though  attention  and  purpose  are 
constantly  present,  a  greater  share  of  the  muscular  move- 
ment, that  imparting  motion  to  the  lungs  for  instance,  is  of 
an  involuntary  kind.  In  struggling  to  give  a  difficult  sound 
from  a  foreign  language,  the  effort  seems  for  a  time  to  ap- 
proach independent,  voluntary  exertion,  and  is  often  for 
that  reason  yqyj  unsuccessful. 

In  reference  to  consciousness  there  are  three  classes : 
unconscious,  semi-conscious  and  conscious  activities.  Con- 
sciousness always  abides  with  the  mind,  and  the  different 
degrees  in  which  it  penetrates  the  physical  constitution  are 
due  to  the  character  of  the  special  and  general  stimuli. 
Along  the  lines  opened  up  by  these  sensations,  the  judg- 
ment and  the  will  are  operative,  reaching  indirectly  much 
beyond  consciousness. 

As  the  intellectual  world  as  a  whole  has  been  slowly 
built  up  on  the  physical,  organic  world,  and  receives  sup- 
port from  it ;  so  man  erects  his  voluntary,  comprehensive, 
and  spiritual  powers  on  the  automatic  forces,  the  nervous 
connections,  the  associative  combinations,  which  lie  beneath 
them.  Thus  in  language  we  are  often  as  much  struck  with 
the  sort  of  blind  help  which  words  themselves  give  us,  as 
we  are  with  the  fact  that  tliey  have  all  grown  out  of  a 
living  thought-process.  Indeed,  the  two  impressions  are 
opposite  sides  of  the  same  thing ;  words  are  infused  with 
life  and  so  yield  life.     Everywhere  the  lower  grows  up  to, 


DEVELOPMENT.  397 

gives  way  to,  and  enlarges  the  liiglier.  The  primary  ma- 
terial of  knowledge  are  sensations  ;  to  these  comes  the  new 
element  of  intuitions,  and  the  true  intellectual  activity 
merely  foreshadowed  in  lower  relations  is  initiated.  Sensa- 
tions pass  into  perceptions,  associations  into  judgments,  in- 
stinctive action  into  voluntary  life,  and  all  into  conduct  and 

character. 

The   strictly  physical   and  the  organic   world   include 
facts  only  that  are  borne  forward  by  inherent  forces.    Upon 
these  are  slowly  superinduced  the  experiences  of  conscious- 
ness, phenomena  that  find  no  expression  or  measurement 
outside  their  own  circle.     These  sensations,  appetites,  affec- 
tions begin  at  once  to  be  united  by  a  concomitant  power, 
new  like  themselves,  that  of  memory,  into  a  definite  expe- 
rience more  and  more  taking  the  place  of  organic,  instinc- 
tive guidance.     Herein  is  a  higher  animal  life,  wrought  out 
on   its  own  plane,   and   constituting  increasingly   the   sig- 
nificant feature  in  development.     In   this  associative   life, 
though  its  data  are  conscious  data,  its  processes  conscious 
processes,  all  connections  are  limited  to  sensible  things,  and 
to  the  combinations  which  have  arisen  among  these  in  ex- 
perience and  been  impressed  upon  the  memory.     This  life, 
therefore,  lies  quite  below   the  rational  life  that,   with  a 
marked   transition,  is  built  up  upon  it.      The   distinctive 
feature  of  this  new  stage  of  development  is  the  discernment 
of  relations,  the  penetration  into  the  substratum  of  forces 
and  powers,  and  the  construction,  out  of  these  abstract  data, 
of  the  world  of  thought.     Sensible  impressions  no  longer 
occupy  exclusively  the  consciousness,  or  control  its  connec- 
tions.'   The  ears  can  be  closed  and  the  eyes  shut,  and  the 
most   active  and   productive   mental  processes  go  forward 
with  increased  advantage.    Mind  thus  becomes  spirit,  enters 
a  spiritual  world,  does  its  work  among  things  invisible,  and 
draws  from  them  its  most  efficient  motives. 


398  EXECUTIVE  VOLITION. 

But  tliis  new  life  must  be  an  embodied  one,  must  be 
put  in  relation  with  the  world  of  sensible  qualities,  spring 
out  of  it,  and  return  to  it.  The  medium  of  this  connection, 
the  symbol  of  these  new  experiences,  is  language,  whose 
controlling  feature  is  its  power  to  express  relations,  to  des- 
ignate and  hold  fast  the  abstract.  By  means  of  language 
the  mind  climbs  out  of  the  world  of  sensations  into  that  of 
relations,  and  works  there  the  great  constructive  labors  of 
thought  by  which  the  phenomena  about  us  become  the  ex- 
pression of  the  ancient  forces  that  have  borne  the  creation 
on  their  bosom  until  now,  and  are  sweeping  with  it  placidly 
by  us  into  the  eternity  before  them.  Spaces  quite  beyond 
the  interjDretation  of  the  senses,  times  into  wliich  our  time 
falls  as  a  drop  in  the  ocean,  forces  which  invisibly  interlace 
all  visible  facts,  powers  which  potentially  abide  in  this  field 
of  effort  and  work  out  there  their  own  ends,  these  are  the 
rational  elements  of  a  rational  life. 

§  4.  That  mind  is  not  the  j)roduct  of  cerebral  action  but 
that  cerebral  action  is  the  medium  of  mind  in  reaching  the 
physical  world,  seems  probable  when  we  consider  the  facts 
of  evolution  simply.  The  vital  power  in  many  and  cun- 
ning combinations  precedes  the  nervous  system.  This  sys- 
tem has  been  from  the  beginning  simply  the  means  to 
farther  development  in  a  direction  previously  indicated. 
Again,  the  automatic  action  of  the  nervous  system  has  pre- 
ceded by  a  long  period  its  conscious  action.  Consciousness 
has  not  been  an  inseparable  function  of  nervous  action,  but 
has  entered  as  a  later  additional  term.  Consciousness  lias 
been  superinduced  on  a  system  relatively  complete  within 
itself.  The  higher  is  not  added  for  the  sake  of  the  lower ; 
but  the  lower  is  put  to  the  uses  of  the  higher.  So  true  is 
this  that  the  organ  of  consciousness,  even  after  it  has  been 
woven  into  the  nervous  web  below  it,  can  be  removed,  and 
a  large  portion  of  automatic  action  remains.     That  the  last 


MIND  AND  CEREBRAL  ACTION.  399 

sensor  state,  in  its  passage  into  the  cerebrum,  is  not  nnited 
cansally  to  the  first  motor  stimuli,  issuing  from  it,  is  prob- 
able ;  (1)  for  if  this  were  true,  the  cerebrum  would  sim2)ly 
repeat  the  functions  of  lower  ganglia ;  and  (2)  in  that  case 
consciousness  would  be  a  superfluous  addition.  Plainly 
consciousness  intervenes  between  the  two  in  a  way  that  in- 
terrupts simply  automatic  connections.  In  this  fact  lies  its 
entire  signiticancy. 


CHAPTEK  lY. 

Primary    Volition  or  Choice. 

§  1.  We  have  now  reached  that  central  point  on  which 
all  volition  rests,  and  every  effect.  In  choice  we  find  the 
home  of  liberty,  tlie  highest  expression  of  j)ower,  the  un- 
conditioned support  from  which  hangs  all  the  chain  of 
linked  events. 

Some  divisions  have  been  made  in  choice,  which  have 
value  in  practical  morals,  but  little  interest  in  philosophy. 
They  mark  the  relation  of  choices  to  the  action  and  charac- 
ter of  the  person  whose  they  are,  and  not  any  inherent  dif- 
ference in  the  volitional  acts  themselves.  Thus  an  ulti- 
mate choice  is  one  which  has  reference  to  the  most  remote, 
or  at  least,  the  most  general  and  inclusive  ends  of  action. 
Thus  a  choice  of  virtue  is  of  this  nature,  since  it  at  once 
sets  a  limit  and  law  to  all  other  volitions,  made  secondary 
in  their  relation  to  this.  A  choice  of  i3leasure  to  be  pur- 
sued directly  and  everywhere  is  also  of  this  character. 
Such  choices  have  more  frequently  a  theoretical  than  an 
actual  existence.  The  j)ursuit  of  pleasure  usually  arises 
under  detached,  limited  choices  fastening  to  some  object  at 
no  great  remove  in  advance.  The  universality  of  such  vo- 
lition is  of  a  quasi^  not  of  a  formal  character.  Even  the 
choice  of  virtue  is  often  made  by  a  specific  surrender  to  a 
given  duty,  rather  than  by  a  broad  forecast  of  the  entire 
field  of  effort  —  is  the  settling  the  struggle  of  life  under 
an  example,  instead  of  a  principle. 

Desultory  volitions  are  also  spoken  of ;  that  is,  volitions 
which  spring  up  one  side  of  the  leading  line  of  action  and 


CHOICE.  401 

are  directly  or  indirectly  at  cross  purposes  witli  it.  Thus 
one  whose  general  pursuit  is  that  of  pleasure,  gives  way 
transiently  to  the  claims  of  right,  and  one  usually  obedient 
to  duty,  for  a  time,  turns  aside  under  some  peculiar  tempta- 
tion. Of  these  clioices,  practically  there  are  many ;  and 
while  their  moral  bearing  is  most  important,  as  choices  they 
present  no  points  of  particular  interest.  Life  is  more  fre- 
quently expended  under  the  impulse  of  general  choices, — 
not  assuming  the  character  of  a  single,  ultimate  choice, 
though  as  certainly  as  such  a  choice,  throwing  action  into 
one  direction — and  under  desultory  choices,  bending  with- 
out reversing  the  current  of  the  soul.  Thus  actions  flow 
onward,  submitting  to  a  gravitation  they  may  not  have  rec- 
ognized, and  yet,  in  never-ending  circuits  and  turnings, 
betraying  the  influence  of  the  passing  hour. 

§  2.  Passing,  then,  these  distinctions  in  the  relations  of 
volitions  rather  than  in  their  character,  we  have  only  to  con- 
sider simple  choice,  the  primary  act  of  the  will,  the  chief  ex- 
pression of  spontaneous  power.  We  shall  speak  first  of  what 
is  involved  in  this  notion  of  free-will,  and  later,  of  the  proof 
of  its  existence.  As  liberty  is  a  primary,  simj^le  relation, 
we  must  define  it  by  cutting  it  off  from  other  things,  by 
denying  of  it  those  qualities  which  have  become  attached  to 
it  from  abroad,  refiected  upon  it  from  the  physical  connec- 
tions of  the  world  below  it,  and  then  leave  it  to  be  under- 
stood and  accepted  by  the  intuitive  grasp  of  the  mind  itself.. 

Liberty  is  not,  as  some  would  have  us  believe,  foundi 
in  the  absence  of  outside  coercion.  If  this  were  liberty, 
the  plant  would  be  free  in  its  growth ;  since  this  proceeds 
under  no  mechanical,  external  impulse,  is  the  result  of  the 
action  of  inner  forces.  When  we  sav  that  man  is  free,  wc 
do  not,  in  the  higher  use  of  the  word,  mean  to  afl^irm  that 
he  is  not  bound  or  imprisoned.  The  ordinary  significance 
of  language  makes  this  point  suflSciently  plain. 


402  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

By  tlie  word  choice,  we  intend  to  cut  off  all  efficient 
forces,  that  is  all  physical  forces,  external  or  internal,  me- 
chanical or  vital,  from  any  control  over,  or  direct  effect 
upon  the  action  which  is  so  designated.  The  commence- 
ment of  the  line  of  effort  which  springs  from  a  primary  vo- 
lition— a  volition,  as  we  shall  concisely  term  it — is  absolute 
and  complete. 

We  do  not  affirm  hereby  anything  concerning  the  exact 
manner  in  which  the  train  of  physical  forces  is  set  in  mo- 
tion by  volition,  but  only  that  it  does,  of  its  own  power,  in- 
itiate the  physical  movements  which  follow.  These  ener- 
gies may  lie  in  store  for  it,  ready  to  be  used,  but  the  will 
liberates  and  controls  them.  The  will,  then,  in  the  first 
place,  stands  above  and  beyond  the  range  of  causation,  even 
in  its  most  subtile  forms  as  presented  by  nervous  energies 
and  influences.  It  descends  upon  and  uses  these,  is  not 
evolved  by  them. 

By  the  limitations  now  given,  all  reflex  action,  all  auto- 
matic action,  under  the  play  of  the  senses  and  appetites,  are 
as  physical  states  excluded  from  the  realm  of  liberty,  are 
but  the  higher  forms  of  physical  action.  Equally  are  those 
executive  volitions  which  have  received  their  impulse  from 
above,  those  acts  which  follow  directly  an  intellectual  weigh- 
ing of  means,  a  balancing  of  probabilities,  a  deliberative 
movement  which  is  simply  the  gathering  and  eddying  of  ex- 
ecutive force  looking  for  a  new  avenue,  the  best  avenue  for 
advance,  cut  off  from  the  freedom  which  attaches  to  choice. 
Having  reached  a  point  wholly  unaffected  by  physical  force, 
we  are  to  inquire  what  are  the  conditions  of  liberty.  The 
inducements  to  action  in  the  will  lie  before  it,  not  behind 
it ;  they  are  motives,  not  causes.  There  is  no  opportunity 
for  choice,  unless  there  are  two  or  more  of  these,  — and  as  by 
successive  rejection  they  at  length  assume  the  typical  form 
— unless  there  are  two  motives  or  lines  of  action.     Neither 


CONDITIONS  OF  CHOICE.  403 

is  there  properly  opportunity  for  choice  unless  these  two 
are  distinct  motives,  subordinate  to  distinct  ends.  If  the 
relation  is  one  of  means  simply,  it  does  not  involve  an  act 
of  choice,  but  one  of  intellectual  estimates,  of  judgment. 
As  the  word  choice  is  applied  both  to  selection  and  election, 
both  to  the  purely  mental  act  deciding  on  adaptations  and 
to  the  volitional  act  deciding  between  courses  of  conduct 
with  different  and  independent  moral  characteristics,  we 
easily  confound  the  two.  These  motives,  then,  must  be 
present,  and  so  present  as  to  furnish  a  true  alternative  of 
action — not  a  seeming  one.  Five  dollars  as  opposed  to  ten 
dollars,  as  detached,  single  considerations,  constitute  no  true 
alternative.  They  are  exactly  of  the  same,  kind,  and,  in  or- 
dinary states  of  mind,  there  is  no  basis  of  action  on  which 
the  less  can  be  preferred  to  the  greater,  since  that  which 
gives  value  to  five  dollars  gives  double  value  to  ten  dollars; 
and  to  feel  the  first  inducement  without  feeling  the  greater 
force  of  the  second  is  simply  to  disclose  a  defective  estimate, 
or  an  abnormal  state  either  of  the  mind  or  of  social  wants. 
In  all  cases  of  which  this  is  a  type,  there  is  no  proper  free- 
dom. The  mind  can  only  choose  the  less  valuable,  the  less 
desirable  of  things,  like  in  kind,  by  adding  to  the  smaller  in- 
ducement a  distinct,  factitious  consideration,  as  that  of  evinc- 
ing independence,  or  the  exhibition  of  eccentricity.  If, 
then,  all  motives  are  resolvable  at  bottom  into  impulse,  and 
measurable  on  one  standard,  we  assert  that  there  is  no  real 
liberty,  but  only  that  semblance  presented  by  an  intellectual 
inquiry  into  the  intrinsic  value  of  things  not  bearing  their 
sale-mark  on  them. 

§  3.  There  is  necessary,  then,  to  liberty  not  only  two 
motives,  but  motives  unlike  in  kind,  resting  back  ultimately 
on  different  principles,  revealing  different  forms  of  good 
and  phases  of  character.  In  other  words,  there  is  no  choice 
without  the  moral  element  which  can  alone  oppose  itself  to 


404:  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

all  varieties  of  physical  good,  and  present  a  distinct  ground 
of  action,  a  reward  incommensurable  with  any  sensual  pleas- 
ure. The  esthetical  element  indeed,  as  infused  with  ethical 
sentiment,  may  furnish  a  secondary  feature  in  that  contrast 
of  action  which  gives  a  basis  of  choice. 

Two  such  motives  being  present,  the  question  returns, 
What  is  their  relation  to  choice  ?  We  answer :  They  in- 
fluence the  will  without  in  any  sense  controlling  it ;  here 
we  have  reached  the  final,  inexplicable  thing,  liberty.  The 
will  can,  by  its  own  power,  take  either  of  the  two  lines  of 
action  to  the  rejection  of  the  other ;  can  feel  motives  to 
any  degree,  yet  refuse  to  yield  to  them.  The  will,  with 
spontaneous  independent  power,  initiates  the  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  courses  of  action  before  it.  Here  is 
neither  fatality  nor  chance,  causation  nor  fortuity.  The 
will  feels,  without  submitting  to  motives,  and  discloses  in 
itself  a  true  beginning  of  action. 

§  4.  There  is  one  view  of  liberty  which  needs  to  be 
guarded  against,  and,  in  the  rejection  of  it,  we  shall  have 
defined  sufficiently  the  conditions  of  choice.  It  is  this. 
The  will  always  does  yield  to  the  strongest  motive,  not  of 
necessity,  but  as  a  fact.  In  the  first  place,  this  theory  in- 
curs all  the  difficulties  of  the  view,  that  the  will  yields  to 
either  of  the  two  motives  by  an  impulse  or  decision  rest- 
ing in  itself  alone,  without  its  advantages.  By  motives  in 
this  discussion,  we  understand  not  simply  the  outward,  ob- 
jective element,  but  the  inner,  subjective  one  as  well,  all 
in  short  that  makes  them  motives.  Influences  are  influ- 
ences only  through  the  susceptibilities  on  which  they  play, 
the  desires  they  evoke.  The  one  theory  affirms  that  these 
motives  may  be  spoken  of  as  stronger  and  weaker,  and  that 
in  each  case  of  choice  that  motive  prevails,  though  not 
necessarily,  which  is  the  strongest.  The  other  theory  asserts 
such  a  distinction  of  motives  is  impertinent,  and  the  will 


OBEYING  THE  JSTIiO^^GEli  MOTIVE.  405 

itself,  in  its  freedom,  is  the  sufficient  and  entire  reason  of 
the  volition  that  follows. 

The  mind,  in  the  act  of  choice,  is  no  more  ruled  by  its 
own  states  than  by  external  conditions.  If  it  were,  liberty 
would  as  certainly  disappear,  as  if,  in  the  outset,  we  placed 
the  wdll  within  reach  of  physical  forces.  We  should  do 
w^ith  two  steps  what  we  had  refused  to  do  w^ith  one. 
The  present  state  of  the  sensibilities  would  be  determined 
by  previous  states,  and  these  by  constitutional  endowments 
and  external  circumstances,  and  thus  the  threads  of  influ- 
ence, the  lines  of  causation,  be  at  length  lodged  elsewhere 
than  in  the  will.  Each  volition  would  be  the  fruit  of  con- 
ditions which  it  itself  had  not  determined,  and  thus  be  as 
certainly  interlocked  with  the  flow  of  forces  as  is  the  mill- 
wheel  which  revolves  in  the  stream.  The  one  theory  evades 
this  result  by  saying,  that  the  stronger  motive  does  control 
the  will,  yet  not  necessarily.  The  choice  may  be,  though 
it  never  is,  against  it.  The  other  denies  the  applicability 
of  the  conception,  greater  and  less,  and  affirms  an  absolute, 
unqualified  freedom,  finding  and  seeking  no  explanation  in 
forces  expressed  in  motives. 

This  admission,  that  the  will  may  choose  the  line  of  ac- 
tion supported  by  what  is  termed  the  weaker  motive,  in- 
volves philosophically  all  the  difficulties  of  the  view  which 
represents  it  as  alike  independent  of  both  incentives,  and 
making  either  a  true  alternative  to  the  other.  There  is  no 
philosophical  obstacle  to  supposing  that  the  will  does  some- 
times do  what  it  is  admitted  that  it  may  do.  The  state- 
ment of  an  action  as  possible  involves  the  concession  of 
grounds  sufficient  to  render  it  intelligible,  if  it  should  actu- 
ally occur.  No  law  of  mind  can  be  violated  by  the  happen- 
ing of  that  which  these  laws  suffer  us  to  regard  as  possible. 
We  must  rely  on  special  reasons,  not  on  general  principles, 
to  establish  the  impossibility  in  given  cases  of  that  which 


406  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

we  have  granted  to  be  a  theoretic  possibility.  We  can  find, 
therefore,  in  philosophy  alone  no  sufficient  reason  for  say- 
ing in  the  same  breath,  that  a  thing  may  be,  and  denying 
that  it  ever  will  be.  The  last  assertion  must  rest  on  some 
special,  empirical  reason ;  since  the  first  assertion  sweeps 
the  ground  of  philosophy  and  says,  that  there  is  nothing  to 
prevent  it.  Our  philosophy,  then,  as  philosophy,  is  no  more 
encumbered  with  the  assertion,  that  the  will  does  choose, 
than  with  the  declaration,  it  may  choose,  either  alternative. 
The  general  principles  which  admit  the  one  statement,  will 
cover  the  other.  The  fact,  that  an  admitted  possibility 
never  does  become  actual,  must  be  established,  if  established 
at  all,  on  special  reasons  peculiar  to  the  case.  If  there  were 
a  general  principle  or  law  against  the  action,  it  would  not 
remain  possible. 

Moreover  this  theory  establishes  an  inductive  law,  of  the 
strongest  possible  character,  against  itself.  Admittedly,  the 
weakest  motive,  so  termed,  never  is  chosen.  There  is  an 
absolutely  uniform  line  of  action  in  innumerable  and  most 
diversified  cases.  No  law  of  induction  is  established  on 
stronger  grounds.  Yet,  when  we  are  just  about  to  reach 
the  conclusion,  that  what,  under  no  circumstances,  is  or  ever 
will  be  done,  is  an  action  excluded  by  the  very  nature  and 
method  of  the  forces  at  work,  we  are  suddenly  bidden  to 
face  around  by  the  very  unexpected  assertion,  the  choice 
under  discussion  is  one  that  may  constantly  be  made.  On 
what  fifround  does  this  odd  inversion  rest?  Not  on  that  of 
induction,  for  this  line  of  argument  prepares  the  way  with 
well-nigh  irresistible  power  for  exactly  the  opposite  state- 
ment. Not  on  philosophical  principles,  for,  as  previously 
shown,  these  principles  would  show  that  what  may  at  any 
time  happen,  probably,  under  the  inexhaustible  variety  of 
circumstances  presented  by  human  life,  will  happen.  This 
assertion,  then,  that  the  will  may,  but  never  does,  choose 


OBEYING  THE  STRONGER  MOTIVE.  407 

the  weaker  motive,  grounds  itself  neither  on  experience  nor 
philosophy.  It  is  an  ill-grounded  affirmation  under  either 
view  of  it. 

§  5.  Again,  to  what  a  mere  shadow  does  it  reduce  lib- 
erty. We  are  free  by  virtue  of  a  power  never  put  forth. 
If  we  could  not  accept  the  rejected  alternative,  we  should 
not  be  free ;  yet,  one  of  the  two  alternatives  always,  before 
choice,  stands  in  such  relation  to  the  will,  that  it  never  ac- 
cepts it.  The  action  of  the  will  is  practically  as  fixed  by 
antecedent  conditions  as  any  line  of  causation.  One  might 
as  well  claim  that  a  python  should  walk  because  of  cer- 
tain rudimentary  limbs  hidden  under  its  skin,  as  to  annex 
all  the  fearful  consequences  of  sin  to  such  a  liypotheti- 
cal  power  as  this — a  power  that  has  never  found  exercise, 
subserves  no  practical  purpose,  and  is  only  jDossessed  of  a 
metaphysical  existence.  To  sustain  the  ponderous  chain  of 
sin — its  interlocked  links  reaching  through  all  eternity,  its 
galling  weight  crushing  the  life  of  myriads — by  so  theoreti- 
cal and  fanciful  a  support,  can  certainly  never  subserve  the 
purposes  of  actual  moral  government. 

Farther,  a  will  of  this  sort,  is  wholly  superfluous.  If 
motives  have  superior  efficiency,  and  this  efficiency  is 
always  yielded  to,  why  should  any  volition  intervene  ? 
There  is  a  power  present  able  to  secure  •  action,  and  that 
does  secure  the  action  that  actually  follows.  Why  should 
not  this  surplus  of  power,  this  over-balance  of  influence,  be 
left  in  an  immediate,  precise,  inevitable  way  to  reach  its 
own  results.  Are  we  to  insert  another  wheel,  itself  with  no 
practical  connections,  only  that  we  may  band  to  it  the  moral 
universe,  and  assert  responsibility  ?  If  so,  let  us,  in  the  name 
of  virtue  and  honesty,  give  it  some  other  office  than  that  of 
simply  bearing  inward  a  power  already  existing  in  com- 
pleteness in  the  motive.  To  deal  thus  subtly  with  one's 
moral  judgments,  to  practise  upon  them  with  these  evanes- 


408  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

cent  distinctions  and  cunning  subterfuges  of  words,  itself 
approaches  wickedness. 

§  6.  Whence  springs  this  distinction  of  motives  into 
stronger  and  Aveaker  but  from  a  false  analogy  with  the 
forces  of  the  physical  world  ?  We  are  not  to  attach  to  the 
word  influence  a  definite,  measurable  power,  capable  of  nu- 
merical comparison  with  like  powers.  If  our  pleasures 
were  all  referable  to  one  sensorium,  something  of  this  sort 
might  be  admissible.  But  they  are  not.  A  moral  gratifi- 
cation can  be  expressed  in  no  terms  of  greater  and  less 
with  a  sensual  indulgence.  AYere  it  not  for  our  moral,  our 
rational  nature,  were  we  wholly  physical,  the  conditions  of 
liberty  would  indeed  disapj^ear.  We  might  weigh  the 
claims  of  the  senses,  assign  a  numerical  value  to  indul- 
gences, and  trace  the  rise  and  fall  of  motion  along  this  new 
meter  of  the  appetites  and  passions.  But  nothing  of  this  is 
possible,  no  approximate  estimates  of  pleasure  are  possible 
when  the  moral  nature  enters  into  the  calculation ;  when 
the  supreme  claims  of  conscience  afford  a  full  and  fair 
alternative  to  every  degree  and  form  of  self-indulgence. 
We  should  have  no  occasion  for  freedom,  were  it  not  for 
the  self-imj)Osed  law  of  the  moral  nature,  and  in  issuing  a 
command  it  also  gives  the  conditions  of  that  liberty  which 
enables  us  to  obey  it.  There  is  no  such  final  reference  of 
motives  to  the  same  or  like  sensibilities,  by  which  we  are 
able  to  pronounce  them  greater  or  less.  There  is  no  com- 
mon term  or  point  between  mere  pleasure  and  duty.  We 
cannot  take  the  pleasure  of  a  glass  of  wine  from  a  sense  of 
obligation,  and  give  a  numerical  remainder. 

But  if  there  is  no  antecedent  standard  by  which  motives 
may  be  measured,  it  is  a  mere  circle  of  words  to  call  that 
the  strongest  motive  which  docs  prevail,  and  then  to  repeat 
the  assertion  in  the  form,  the  will  always  chooses  the 
strongest  motive.     There  must  be  antecedent  measurement, 


OBEYING  THE  STRONGEM  MOTIVE.  409 

— and   there   is   no   snch   measurement — or  our   language 
means  nothing. 

This  view  overlooks  the  office  of  the  moral  nature,  the 
transcendent  purchase  and  power  that  it  gives  to  choice. 
It  confounds  simple,  intellectual  discrimination  between 
enjoyments,  or,  still  worse,  a  certain  automatic  adjustment 
and  balance  between  animal  impulses,  with  choice.  Liberty 
keeps  aloof  from  this  lower  region.  It  reposes  on  extended 
wing  in  the  upper  air  of  our  rational,  intuitive  powers  and 
emotions.  There  is,  and  of  necessity  must  be,  a  moral 
character  to  every  true  act  of  choice,  since  the  higher  im- 
pulses must  enter  to  break  up  and  rule  out  these  estimates 
of  greater  and  less,  these  automatic  adjustments  of  influ- 
ences essentially  one. 

The  sense  of  guilt  which  accompanies  a  moral  struggle 
sustains  the  view  we  have  presented.  If  the  guilty  j)arty 
could  feel  that  he  had  yielded  to  the  strongest  motive,  that 
a  balance  had  been  cast  up  between  motives,  and  he  had  ac- 
cepted the  largest  sum  proffered,  the  sense  of  condemnation 
and  shame  would  be  very  different  from  what  it  now  is. 
In  projDortion,  however,  as  the  transcendent,  unmeasurable 
character  of  virtue  is  present  to  the  mind,  are  the  accom- 
panying moral  struggle  and  the  subsequent  sense  of  guilt 
strong  and  bitter.  The  more  declared  the  sin,  the  more 
clear  the  knowledge  of  the  high  nature  of  the  things  re- 
jected. It  is  the  increase  of  light  and  motive,  not  their  de- 
crease, which  evokes  the  forces  of  moral  retribution.  The 
mind  is  not  allowed  to  console  itself  wdth  the  assertion,  that 
at  the  time  and  under  the  circumstances,  it  actually  chose 
the  strongest  pleasure,  the  highest  good.  Its  infinite  folly, 
its  unaccountable  guilt  are  enforced  upon  it,  not  its  sad 
mistake,  its  grave  misjudgment. 

§  7.  Against  the  notion  of  liberty,  absolute  and  com- 
plete, now  presented,  it  may  be  urged,  that  it  admits  of  no 


410  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

control,  that  its  action  can  not  be  anticipated,  and  hence  pro- 
vided for.  Kow  liberty  is  limited  to  the  alternatives  before 
it.  It  can  not  choose  anything,  but  only  one  of  two  things ; 
and  it  is  unsafe  to  give  the  opportunity  of  choice,  when  we 
are  not  ready  for  the  acceptance  of  either  of  the  things 
offered.  Liberty  is  simply  a  larger  field  of  activity,  the 
opening  of  two  lines  of  effort  instead  of  one,  and  this  is 
often  found  very  easy  even  for  a  man  in  his  control  and 
management  of  his  fellows.  It  does,  indeed,  make  of  gov- 
ernment a  higher  art,  but  does  not  in  skillful  hands  take 
away  its  perfect  efficiency,  all  the  efficiency  contemplated. 

Liberty  provides  for  less,  recognizes  less  of  a  certain 
sort  of  control  than  does  slavery.  The  inevitable,  mechan- 
ical movement  of  necessary  forces  is,  indeed,  lost ;  but  there 
is  substituted  a  nobler  movement,  because  it  is  a  freer  one, 
manageable  in  a  different  measure,  and  on  different  prin- 
ciples. Those  who  prefer  the  clang  and  ceaseless  on-going 
of  machinery  may  not  be  pleased ;  but  the  product  itself, 
nevertheless,  is  every  way  superior. 

Moreover,  will  is  constantly  declaring  itself  under  its 
own  liberty,  establishing  a  movement  and  revealing  a  char- 
acter more  and  more  manifest  to  those  who  have  to  deal 
with  it.  The  virtue  of  a  virtuous  man  does  not  cease  to  be 
free,  nor  the  vice  of  a  vicious  man,  because  the  choice  of 
each  is  not  momentarily  altered.  A  free  action  remains 
free,  no  matter  how  far  pursued,  and  those  impulses  of  the 
rational  life  once  revealed  become  more  and  more  declared 
and  fixed  in  their  directions.  The  conduct  of  a  perfectly 
virtuous  being  is  among  the  most  calculable  forces  in  the 
whole  universe,  and  this  without  the  least  loss  of  freedom. 
We  manage  events  readily  which  turn  on  moral  evidence, 
yet  the  connections  are  not  absolute,  are  not  seen  by  us  to 
be  certain.  There  is  the  same  difference  between  causation 
and  liberty  as  between  demonstration  and  evidence,  proof 


PROOF  OF  LIBERTY.  411 

and  argument.  Eacli  subserves  a  feasible,  practical  pur- 
pose. 

It  may  be  farther  objected,  that  liberty  so  defined  is  syn- 
onymous with  chance.  It  is  not.  The  ground  of  action — 
and  there  remains  a  most  adequate  and  complete  ground — 
is  simply  transferred  from  the  motives  to  the  will,  from  the 
outside  to  the  inside,  from  secondary  and  causal  agents  to 
a  primary  and  independent  one.  AVe  must,  indeed,  give 
up  all  hope  of  conceiving  this  under  forms  of  the  imagina- 
tion, or,  of  the  understanding  through  analogical  judg- 
ments ;  but  let  alone,  it  is  just  as  intelligible  as  red,  or 
sweet,  or  hard,  or  as  causation  itself,  which,  for  some  in- 
scrutable reason,  seems  to  be  thought  by  many  to  be  so  per- 
fectly translucent  a  notion  as  to  be  the  only  proper  solvent 
for  everything  else.  If  we  could  get  over  the  futile  feeling 
that  everything  must  be  like  something  else,  a  habit  of 
mind  confirmed  by  physical  inquiry,  we  should  have  no 
more  theoretical,  than  we  have  practical  difficulty  with  lib- 
erty, claiming  hourly  its  fullest  consequences  from  child 
and  adult,  from  friend  and  foe. 

§  8.  What  are  the  proofs  of  the  existence  of  the  power 
of  choice  as  now  defined  ?  Our  analysis,  our  rejection  of 
this  and  that  explanation  as  insufficient,  have  proceeded  on 
the  claims  of  an  intuitive  notion.  We  have  denied  the  con- 
clusions which  seemed  incompatible  with  perfect  freedom, 
wdiich  furtively  subjected  the  mind  once  more  to  the  same 
forces  which  drive  the  world.  Our  proof  of  the  existence 
of  this  power  is  not  found  directly  in  consciousness.  If 
it  w^ere,  the  question  would  hardly  admit  of  dispute.  The 
evidence  of  consciousness  is  negative  rather  than  positive. 
AVe  are  conscious  of  the  presence  of  motives,  we  are  con- 
scious of  volitions,  these  are  phenomenal ;  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  the  connection  between  the  two,  this  is  not  plie- 
nomenal.     We  are  negatively,  indeed,  aware  of  no  restraint ; 


4i2  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

our  volitions  seem  to  be,  what  we  affirm  they  are,  free. 
But  consciousness  does  not  directly  settle  this  question,  for 
the  sufficient  reason  that  freedom  is  not  a  phenomenon, 
but  the  condition  or  form  of  phenomena,  and  hence  it 
does  not  immediately  arise  in  consciousness,  but  is  only  sug- 
gested from  what  is  there  present. 

The  occasion  of  this  suggestion  is  found  in  our  moral 
nature.  Laws  are  constantly  imposed  on  our  actions  by 
ourselves,  by  others,  and  our  moral  sense  justifies  them. 
The  record  of  history  and  of  individual  life  everywhere 
presents  them,  and  hourly,  momentarily  demands  them. 
!Now  no  law,  no  command  can  be  imposed  on  a  being  that 
is  not  free.  The  only  law  to  which  such  a  being  can  be 
subjected  is  a  physical  law,  working  in  and  through  it.  A 
moral  law  above  it,  before  it,  is  an  absurdity ;  and,  if  fol- 
lowed by  punishment  is  most  cruel. 

Hence  those  who  logically  accept  the  consequences  of 
their  own  doctrines  utterly  subvert  the  phenomena  under 
consideration,  the  facts  of  the  moral  world,  and  give  an  en- 
tirely new  rendering  of  them  as  a  consequence  of  their 
denial  of  liberty.  Says  Bain,  in  The  Emotions  amd  The 
Will ;  "  Under  a  certain  motive,  as  hunger,  I  act  in  a  cer- 
tain way,  taking  the  food  that  is  before  me,  going  where  I 
shall  be  fed,  or  performing  some  other  preliminary  condi- 
tion. The  sequence  is  simple  and  clear  when  so  expressed ; 
bring  in  the  idea  of  freedom,  and  there  is  instantly  a  chaos, 
imbroglio,  or  jumble.  What  is  to  be  said,  therefore,  is  that 
this  idea  ought  never  to  have  come  into  the  theoretical  ex- 
planation of  the  will,  and  ought  now  to  be  summarily  ex- 
pelled.*' Again,  "  the  word  choice  is  one  of  the  modes  of 
designating  the  supposed  liberty  of  voluntary  actions.  The 
real  meaning,  that  is  to  say,  the  only  real  tact  that  can  be 
pointed  at  in  correspondence  with  it,  is  the  acting  out  one 
of  several  different  promptings.     When  a  pereon  purchases 


PER  VERSION  OF  FA  CT8.  413 

an  article  out  of  several  submitted  to  view,  tlie  recommend- 
ations of  that  one  are  said  to  be  greater  than  of  the  rest, 
and  nothing  more  needs  really  be  said  in  describing  the 
transaction.  It  may  happen  for  a  moment  the  opposing  at- 
tractions are  exactly  balanced,  and  decision  suspended  there- 
by. The  equipoise  may  even  continue  for  a  length  of  time, 
but  when  the  decision  is  actually  come  to,  the  fact  and  the 
meaning  are  that  some  consideration  has  arisen  to  the  mind, 
giving  a  superior  energy  of  motive  to  the  side  that  has 
preponderated.  This  is  the  whole  substance  of  the  act  of 
choosino^.  The  desisrnation,  libertv  of  choice,  has  no  real 
meaning,  except  as  denying  extraneous  interference."  In 
the  same  vein,  he  continues,  "  The  term  responsibility,  is  a 
figurative  expression  of  the  kind  called  by  writers  on  rheto- 
ric, '  metonymy,'  where  a  thing  is  named  by  some  of  its 
causes,  effects,  or  adjuncts,  as  when  the  crown  is  put  for 
royalty,  the  mitre  for  episcopacy,  etc.  Seeing  that  in  every 
country  where  forms  of  justice  have  been  established  a 
criminal  is  allowed  to  answer  the  charge  made  against  him, 
before  he  is  punished,  this  circumstance  has  been  taken  up, 
and  used  to  designate  punishment.  "We  shall  find  it  con- 
duce to  clearness  to  put  aside  the  figure,  and  employ  the 
literal  term.  Instead,  therefore,  of  responsibility,  I  shall 
substitute  punishability  ;  for  a  man  can  never  be  said  to  be 
responsible,  if  you  are  not  prepared  to  punish  him,  when 
he  can  not  satisfactorily  answer  the  charges  made  against 
him."  In  another  passage,  he  gives  concisely  his  notion 
of  the  method  of  moral  suasion.  "  There  is  one  form  of 
stating  the  fact  of  ability  that  brings  us  face  to  face  with 
the  great  metaphysical  puzzle.  It  not  uncommonly  hap- 
pens that  a  delinquent  pleads  his  moral  weakness  in  justifi- 
cation of  his  offence.  The  school-boy  whose  animal  sjDirits 
carry  him  to  a  breach  of  decorum,  or  whose  anger  has  made 
him  do  violence  on  a  school-fellow,  will  sometimes  defend 


tlrU  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

himself  by  saying  lie  was  carried  away,  and  could  not  re- 
strain himself.  In  other  words,  he  makes  out  a  case  closely 
allied  to  physical  compulsion.  He  is  sometimes  answered 
by  saying,  that  he  could  have  restrained  himself  if  he  had 
chosen,  willed,  or  sufficiently  wished  to  do  so.  Such  an 
answer  is  really  a  puzzle  or  paradox,  and  must  mean  some- 
thing very  different  from  what  is  apparently  expressed. 
The  fact  is,  that  the  offender  was  in  a  state  of  mind  such 
that  his  conduct  followed  according  to  the  uniformity  of 
his  being,  and  if  the  same  antecedents  were  exactly  re- 
peated, the  same  consequent  would  certainly  be  reproduced. 
In  that  view,  therefore,  the  foregoing  answer  is  irrevelant, 
not  to  say  nonsensical.  The  proper  form,  and  the  practical 
meaning  to  be  conveyed,  is  this :  It  is  true,  that  as  your 
feelings  then  stood,  your  conduct  resulted  as  it  did ;  but  I 
am  now  to  deal  with  you  in  such  a  way,  that  when  the  situ- 
ation recurs,  new  feelings  and  motives  will  be  present,  suf- 
ficient, I  hope,  to  issue  differently.  I  now  punish  you,  or 
threaten  you,  or  admonish  you  in  order  that  an  antecedent 
motive  may  enter  into  your  mind,  as  a  counter-action  to 
your  animal  spirits  or  temper  on  another  occasion,  seeing 
that,  acting  as  you  did,  you  were  plainly  in  want  of  such  a 
motive.  I  am  determined  that  your  conduct  shall  be  re- 
formed, and  therefore  every  time  that  you  make  such  a 
lapse,  I  will  supply  more  and  more  incentives  in  favor  of 
what  is  your  duty." 

Here  is  consistency.  Mr.  Bain  has  determined  that 
there  is  no  freedom,  that  the  notion  is  an  absurd  one,  and 
hence  he  pushes  his  theory  right  over  the  convictions  of 
men  expressed  in  the  most  unmistakable,  universal  and  con- 
stant use  of  language.  He  says  to  himself,  the  line  of  my 
road  lies  through  yonder  hill,  and  he  buries  his  engine  up 
to  the  furnace  in  the  soil  in  his  effort  to  drive  it  throuo^h. 
As  we  have  undertaken  only  the  easier  and  more  modest 


PER  VERSION  OF  FACTS.  415 

task  of  explaining,  instead  of  overthrowing,  the  universal 
facts  of  mind,  we  must  needs  believe  that  the  world,  wise 
and  ignorant,  have  not  whistled  to  the  w^ind  in  talking  about 
freedom,  choice,  responsibility,  and  in  constructing  the 
frame-work  of  private,  social  and  religious  life  upon  them. 
In  the  above  theory,  there  is  the  entire  transformation  of 
the  very  familiar  facts  of  hourly  life  that  seek  our  explana- 
tion. The  language  we  apply  to  them  is  found  to  be  all 
wrong.  There  is  no  proper  guilt  or  punishment,  virtue  or 
reward.  There  is  no  law,  as  we  use  the  word  in  social  and 
ethical  discussions ;  all  is  ultimately  resolvable  into  physi- 
cal force.  The  man  indeed,  like  the  brute,  can  be  reached 
on  two  sides  instead  of  one.  He  can  be  pushed,  guided 
from  behind,  and,  through  the  mirror  of  the  mind,  can  be 
invited,  influenced  by  things  yet  before  him.  As,  by  in- 
genious reflection,  rays  that  do  not  directly  fall  upon  the 
object  are  thrown  upon  it,  so  forces  not  yet  realized  are 
flung  by  anticipation  on  the  mind,  and  become  present  pow- 
ers working  vital  results  in  the  brain.  To  lay  a  command, 
therefore,  as  conscience  does,  and  furnish,  for  its  execution, 
no  forces,  promise  no  pleasures,  threaten  no  pains,  as  the 
immediate  results  of  obedience  or  disobedience,  is,  according 
to  the  above  view,  absurd,  is  to  furnish  the  plan  of  a  noble 
edifice,  and  provide  no  workmen  to  put  it  up.  There  is, 
on  this  theory,  no  other  moral  law  than  when  I  flourish  a 
whip  in  the  face  of  a  restive  ox,  or  apply  it  to  his  tough 
hide.  The  actions  are  essentially  one ;  the  flrst  brings  the 
anticipation  of  pain,  and  the  second,  actual  pain. 

In  the  passages  quoted,  there  is  an  undersigned  confession 
that  the  author  can  make  nothing  of  the  true  moral  phenome- 
na of  moral  law,  and  has,  therefore,  put  in  their  place  a  gross 
caricature,  at  war  with  the  form  and  language  of  our  daily 
life.  We  do  treat  the  brute  and  the  man  very  differently, 
and    the  more  diversely,   as  we  are  the    more  intelligent. 


416  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

"We  furnish  an  influence,  an  incentive  for  the  one,  we 
claim  its  existence  in  the  other.  We  provide  for  obedience 
here,  we  demand  it  there  ;  we  give  the  sharp  intonation 
here,  we  simply  state  the  law  in  its  imperial  power  there. 
AYe  accept  as  complete  the  service  which  fear  has  brought 
here ;  there  we  despise  it,  as  no  solution  of  the  claims  of 
right  on  the  soul.  Bain  gives  the  theory  of  brute  life,  we 
are  striving  to  give  that  of  rational  life.  He  takes  his  ex- 
amples promiscuously  from  the  causal  and  the  free  side  of 
human  action.  While  recognizing  the  way  in  which  the 
two  laws  blend  with  each  otlier  in  conduct,  we  assert  the 
radical  distinction  between  them.  If  a  true,  moral  com- 
mand is  ever  uttered  from  within,  or  from  without,  ri^ht- 
fully  to  man,  liberty,  the  power  to  obey  it,  is  implied 
therein. 

The  second  portion  of  the  proof  of  liberty,  without 
which  the  first  would  be  incomplete,  is  the  fact,  that  the 
mind  does  spontaneously,  inevitably  place  this  notion  of 
liberty  back  of  human,  responsible  action  as  its  explanation. 
Our  conclusion  is  the  conclusion  of  the  race  ;  just  as  cer- 
tainly, universally,  inevitably  as  is  any  judgment  whatever. 
We  no  more  necessarily  refer  an  effect  to  a  cause,  than  we 
do  responsibility  to  liberty  ;  and  responsibility  w^e  univers- 
ally claim  of  others.  It  remains  to  be  shown  that  any  man 
has  ever  lived,  who  has  not  believed  in  the  guilt  of  his 
neighbor ;  it  is  axiomatic  in  practical  morals,  that  guilt  is 
commensurate  with  power.  Every  excuse  and  apology  pre- 
suppose it.  The  full  form,  then,  of  the  proof  of  the  exist- 
ence of  freedom  is  found  in  the  double  fact,  that  we  uni- 
versally lay  moral  claims  upon  others,  and  that  we  justify 
ourselves  in  so  doing  by  attributing  liberty  to  them.  There 
is  a  large  class  of  familiar  and  undeniable  facts  which  the 
mind  pertinaciously  explains  by  an  assertion  of  its  power  of 
choice.     The  difficulty  of  philosophers  in  analj^zing  it,  their 


LIBERTY.  417 

perplexities  over  it,  tlieir  escape  by  denials  of  it,  are  no 
more  proofs  against  it,  than  the  like  treatment  of  the  mind's 
action  in  a  dozen  other  directions.  The  spontaneous,  ever- 
recurring  action  of  the  mind  is  the  proof  we  have  of  liberty, 
and  the  only  proof  we  have  for  anything  our  faculties  offer 
us.  We  see  and  see  again,  till  we  believe  that  we  see.  We 
think  and  think  again,  till  we  accept  our  thouglit. 

§  9.  Liberty,  as  a  primary  power,  calls  for  a  broader 
basis  in  our  constitution  than  we  have  thus  far  assigned  it, 
or  than  is  usually  seen  to  belong  to  it.  If  one  act  only,  that 
of  choice,  is  spontaneous,  then  this  act  can  accomplish  noth- 
ing, enclosed  as  a  single  term  in  the  on-going  processes  of 
the  mind.  A  volition  must  have  at  its  disposal  spontaneous 
powers  to  execute  its  purposes,  powers  that  can  be  rescued 
from  the  current  of  previous  causes,  and  be  opened  up  to 
a  new  impulse.  If  the  thoughts  and  feelings  are  ever  mov- 
ing forward  under  sufficient  and  independent  forces  or 
causes,  then  neither  can  the  antecedent  conditions  of  voli- 
tion be  secured,  nor  the  subsequent  ones.  Antecedently 
volition  would  fail,  because  each  state  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing being  fixed  by  forces  alien  to  the  will,  there  would  be 
no  opportunity  for  inde|)endent  inquiry  on  any  topic ;  the 
will  would  be  found  in  the  midst  of  intellectual  and  emo- 
tional conditions  alien  to  every  other  than  the  established 
drift  of  thought.  The  volition  would  fail  subsequently, 
because  an  act  of  choice  is  nothing  unless  previous  tendeur 
cies  can  be  checked  by  it  and  new  ones  established  ;  unless 
spontaneous  powers  can  be  brought  forward  for  its  execu- 
tion. One  may  stand  in  a  mill,  its  busy  wheels  revolving 
everywhere  about  him,  and  choose  this  or  that  result ;  the 
choice  does  not  avail  unless  he  can  put  his  hand  on  the 
machinery  and  modify  its  action.  So  far  as  this  is  complete 
within  itself,  and  driven  by  its  own  forces,  it  goes  forward 
heedless  of  volitions.     If  one  is  to  oversee  men,  his  ovei*- 


418  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

sight  avails  not  if  lie  finds  tliem  all  occupied  in  tlieir  own 
waj^s,  and  is  unable  to  divert  them  from  their  labors,  and 
convert  them  to  his  purposes.  In  other  words,  an  act  of 
will  must  go  deeper  and  extend  farther  than  itself  and  lay 
hold  of  a  whole  circle  of  modifiable  powers  in  the  execu- 
tion of  its  i^lans.  Unless  the  thoughts  and  feelings  are 
spontaneous,  unless  they  are  potential,  and  hold  themselves 
at  the  beck  of  the  w^ill,  in  whole  or  in  part,  the  will  remains 
impotent,  having  no  service  because  it  has  no  servants. 
Spontaneity,  then,  must  belong  to  our  intellectual  constitu- 
tion or  freedom  cannot  belong  to  our  voluntary  life.  Orig- 
ination at  single  detached  points  avails  nothing.  The  will 
can  not  bo  operative  if  out  of  harmony  with  our  other  pow- 
ers. It  must  be  able  to  act  by  anticipation,  to  accumulate 
and  modify  motives  ;  it  must  be  able  to  rally  to  its  choices 
the  forces  of  the  mind,  and  carry  protractedly  forward  its 
processes ;  it  must  be  profoundly  in  sympathy  Avith  the  en- 
tire constitution,  and  pervade  its  powers  as  a  life-giving  law. 
Dr.  Carpenter,  unwilling  to  abandon  liberty,  though  it 
is  a  notion  quite  out  of  keeping  with  his  general  system, 
regards  volition  "as  exerted  in  augmenting  the  nervous 
tension  of  the  part  of  the  cortical  substance  of  the  cerebrum 
which  is  concerned  in  the  formation  of  the  idea  of  the  thing 
to  be  done.  •  •  *  It  consists  in  an  intensification  of  the 
hypersemic  state  of  the  ideational  centre."  (Mental  Physi- 
ology, p.  425).  This  voluntary  increase  of  the  blood  in  the 
brain  is  open  philosophically  to  all  and  more  than  all  the 
difficulties  of  complete,  proportionate  freedom,  and  is  most 
impotent  in  accomplishing  its  purposes.  If  one  could  at 
will  increase  or  diminish  the  steam  in  the  cylinder,  and  so 
modify  the  motive  power  in  any  branch  of  manufacture, 
this  fact  would  not  avail  to  alter  the  processes  in  progress. 
It  would  quicken  or  retard  the  movement,  but  not  re-direct 
it.      This  very  narrow  volition  would  be  so  enveloped  in 


SPONTANEITY.  419 

previous  states,  that  it  would  have  no  real  control.  An  act 
of  will,  to  be  efficacious,  must  so  pervade  the  mind  as  to 
give  new  starting-points  and  new  directions. 

All  pure  intellectual  action  is  spontaneous,  beyond  caus- 
ation, and  ready  to  be  played  upon  by  the  will.     The  feel- 
ings, intellectual  and  spiritual,  are  also  spontaneous,  that  is, 
referable  to  powers  of   mind  and  not  to  physical  forces. 
These,  however,  stand  in  such  dependence  on  the  thoughts 
that  they  are  only  indirectly  reached  by  the  will.      The  ac- 
tions of  the  mind,  though  free,  first  through  its  spontaneous 
powers,  and  second  through  its  choices,  none  the  less  stand  in 
determinate  constitutional  relations,  and  remain  to  be  opera- 
ted under  their  appropriate  laws.     Thought  does  not  cease 
to  be  spontaneous  because  it  is  logical,  truthful;   because 
the  premises  contain  the  conclusion.     No  more  do  the  feel- 
ings lose  their  spontaneity  because  they  are  united  to  the 
thoughts,  and  follow  after  them.     It  is  not  the  nature  of  the 
will  to  set  aside  all  relations,  it  is  its  office  to  work  under 
them.    There  is  order  that  is  not  causal  order,  to  wit,  thought- 
order,  emotional  order.     Will  means  the  power  to  guide  and 
propel  the  mind,  and  this  power  is  no  more  lost  because  the 
mind  moves  in  definite  ways,  than  is  the  control  of  the  engi- 
neer because  the  engine  requires  a  track.     The  mind  works 
for  the  truth,  not  against  it,  or  at  random  in  reference  to  it. 
If,  then,  we  deny  liberty,  our  denial  will  reach  propor- 
tionately deep,  and  the  spontaneity  of  our  intellectual  ac- 
tion will  go  with  it.     Our  thoughts,  as  a  coherent  move- 
ment of  powers,  will  be  dissolved  apart.     The  conclusions 
will  no  longer  inhere  in  the  premises,  and  be  taken  thence 
by  the  mind^  but  impression  will  follow  impression  without 
direct  connection,  as  the  shadow  of  one  car  pursues  that  of 
another  in  the  same  train.     Intellectual  relations  thus  be- 
come the  relations  of  shadows ;  dependence  is  found  only 
between  things,  is  exclusively  physical  and  causal. 


420  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  GEOICE. 

In  strict  consistency,  however,  we  cannot  liold  fast  to 
causation,  since  the  link  of  force,  like  the  link  of  liberty,  is 
one  supplied  wholl}''  by  the  mind,  is  one  of  its  notions ;  and 
no  verification  falls  to  a  single  idea  which  is  not  common 
to  them  all.  JSTothing  can  be  affirmed  of  causation  as  proof 
which  can  not  also  be  asserted  of  liberty. 

By  the  disappearance,  therefore,  of  liberty,  not  only  are 
all  the  social,  civil,  moral,  and  religious  facts  of  the  world 
dissolved,  the  coherance  of  thought  also  disaj)pears,  every 
connection  is  illusory,  and  every  joint  dislocated.  We  are 
in  a  world  of  films  and  shadows.  Our  moral  actions  first 
shake  off^  responsibility ;  then  our  thoughts  slip  their  logi- 
cal connections  and  pass  into  shadows ;  last  of  all  the  visi- 
ble w^orld  becomes  a  dream.  We  dream  that  we  dream,  and 
there  is  no  awaking.  To  come  to  ourselves,  is  the  very  preg- 
nant phrase  of  all  right-mindedness.  When  we  possess  in  con- 
fidence our  own  powers,  then  we  comprehend  other  things. 
Will  is  germinant,  the  only  germinant  thing  in  the  universe  ; 
all  else  is  flow.  Is  it  marvellous,  then,  that  liberty  as  an 
idea  must  be  the  norm  of  constructive  thought  ?  Liberty  is 
spontaneity  exercised  in  choice.  Spontaneity  is  self-centered 
power  as  opposed  to  transmitted  power.  On  spontaneity 
rests  the  potential — w^hat  may  be  as  opposed  to  what  must  be. 

We  cannot  go  as  far  as  Martineau  and  others  desire  to, 
and  extend  this  dependence  of  force  on  will  into  an  identi- 
fication of  them,  making  an  alleged  consciousness  of  force 
exercised  in  volition  the  source  of  the  notion  of  causation. 
The  subj^henomenal  power  as  truly  escapes  us  in  mental 
experiences  as  in  physical  ones.  The  mind  is  alike  pene- 
trative and  constructive  in  both.  What  we  should  learn  to 
do  is  not  to  distrust  and  struggle  against  our  intuitions,  but 
to  call  them  forth  and  guard  them.  We  shall  everywhere 
lose  the  substratum  of  real  being,  unless  we  can  penetrate 
to  it  by  special  insight. 


PM00F8  OF  LIBERTY.  421 

§  10.  As  the  proofs  of  liberty  are  of  tlic  utmost  mo- 
ment, and  as  they  arise  from  a  variety  of  scattered  consid- 
erations as  well  as  from  central  facts,  we  will  for  their  better 
apprehension,  epitomize  and  group  them. 

(1)  Pure  mental  facts,  more  particularly  those  of 
thought,  must  lose  their  quality  without  spontaneity. 
The  mind,  in  its  search  for  truth,  must  be  free  to  follow  it. 
If  secret  causal  forces  control  the  movement,  the  distinction 
between  the  true  and  the  false  is  lost ;  since  every  effect  is 
equally  necessary  and  real,  the  one  termed  false  as  the  one 
termed  true.  If  this  argument  is  well  taken,  it  is  final ;  for 
an  overthrow  of  this  distinction  abolishes  all  denials  and 
affirmations,  and  among  them  those  of  the  necessitarian. 

(2)  The  moral  facts  of  the  world  can  not  maintain 
their  ground  as  simply  causal  facts.  The  distinction  as 
a  primary  one  disappears ;  all  facts  are  of  one  grand  order, 
all  are  necessary  facts.  Any  division  that  may  remain  is 
one  of  form  simply.  The  discussion  has  swept  away  the 
phenomena  that  provoked  it. 

(3)  Physical  facts,  as  united  by  forces  and  understood 
through  forces,  have  no  basis  of  knowledge  firmer  than  that 
which  has  just  given  away  in  morals.  The  notion  of  force 
is  one  supplied  by  the  mind,  and  applied  for  the  same  rea- 
sons and  in  the  same  way  as  that  of  liberty,  to  wit,  to  ex- 
plain certain  facts.  If  the  one  notion  is  without  proof,  so 
is  the  other  ;  if  the  one  has  proof,  so  has  the  other.  If  we 
substitute  succession  for  causation,  succession  is  more  allied 
to  liberty  than  to  necessity.  And  if  we  strip  away  depen- 
dencies, thought  must  go  with  them,  as  thought  is  one  of 
them,  and  each  instant  involves  them.  If  there  are  no  con- 
nections there  are  no  thoughts,  and  nothing  for  thought  to 
pursue.  Either  the  links  of  thoughts  or  the  links  of  things 
must  be  allowed  ;  and  if  one  is  allowed  both  must  be. 

(4)  The  two  dependencies  involved   in   necessity  and 


422  PRIMARY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

liberty  must  remain  as  the  rational  correlatives  of  each 
other  in  all  knowledge.  Necessary  movement  is  not  a 
movement  to  be  known  by  itself,  since  such  a  knowledge 
would  be  a  superfluous  adjunct,  a  waste  of  energy.  Knowl- 
edge, on  the  other  hand,  being  present,  must  have  an  ele- 
ment of  freedom,  or  the  simply  necessary  will  remain  alien 
and  inapproachable  to  it.  It  is  along  the  line  of  interaction 
between  the  fixed  and  the  flexible  that  rational  life  is  de- 
veloped. 

(5.)  Language,  the  most  conq^lete  and  permanent  image 
of  mental  facts,  includes  fully  the  notion  of  liberty.  We 
refer  not  merely  to  the  words  of  moral  action  and  of  in- 
tellectual and  political  freedom,  —  though  these  forms  of 
liberty  are  so  wrought  into  speech,  directly  and  indirectly, 
that  the  most  careful  expression  can  not  shun  them,  that  a 
consistent  utterance  of  the  doctrine  of  necessity  becomes 
impossible — but  to  the  presence  of  such  moods  as  the  poten- 
tial and  the  subjunctive  and  the  imperative,  and  the  con- 
stant overshadowing  of  the  actual  by  the  possible  and  the 
ideal.  This  perpetual  tenor  of  speech  is  illusory,  if  the 
world  is  covered  in  all  its  parts  by  one  inflexible  movement. 
Language  again,  like  life,  lies  in  the  interplay  of  the  possi- 
ble and  the  actual. 

(6)  If  23ure  mental  action  is  not  spontaneous,  it  is  the 
product  of  realized  forces ;  no  distinct  seats  of  these  forces 
can  be  given  without  involving  materialism.  Motives  lie 
before  the  mind,  and  the  objects  expressed  by  them  may 
not  as  yet  even  exist.  Motives  are  images  of  possibilities, 
they  are  not  forces  in  the  mind  moving  it.  The  only 
imaginable  seat  of  forces,  efficient  in  a  present  process 
of  thought  or  volition,  must  be  brain  tissue.  But  ner- 
vous forces  working  nervous  effects  bring  no  explana- 
tion of  thoughts,  unless  these  effects  and  thoughts  are 
identical.      Forces   must   be   physical   and   must   occasion 


PROOF  OF  LIBERTY.  423 

physical   effects,  and  these  alone  are  what  the   theory  of 
necessity  expounds. 

(7)  Nor  does  physical  investigation  disclose  any  term  in 
the  circle  of  forces  which  can  be  regarded  as  a  thought- 
force.  Though  we  can  not  trace  exactly  the  circuit  of  the 
forces  that  play  into  and  through  the  brain,  we  regard  them 
as  complete  within  themselves  on  a  purely  physical  basis ; 
there  is  no  opening,  no  transition  stage,  at  which  to  insert 
a  new  force,  a  thought-force.  The  forces  active  in  the  tel- 
egraph stand  on  terms  of  complete  equivalence  among 
themselves  ;  the  mind  of  the  operator  is  not  included  in 
them.  No  more  is  thought  embraced  as  a  recognized  part 
of  the  nervous  circle.  We  have  chemical,  thermal,  electric 
nervous  forces,  bnt  no  known  thought-force.  Not  the  first 
fact  of  this  order  appears  in  physical  inquiry.  Yet  will  ex- 
presses itself  in  forces  of  great  energy,  and  if  it  does  this  by 
virtue  of  itself  being  a  force,  the  fact  should  be  a  palpa- 
ble one.  Quite  the  reverse  seems  to  be  the  case  ;  we  have 
a  complete  circuit  of  physical  forces,  with  no  hint  of  any 
deficiency. 

(8)  Nor  do  motives  combine  like  forces.  Forces  are 
not  lost  in  the  effects,  whether  they  give  apparent  form  to 
them  or  not.  Adverse  motives  are  lost.  Single  lines  of  ac- 
tion are  taken.  Mind  doe^  not  move  along  the  combining 
diagonal. 

(9)  If  the  theory  of  necessity  were  correct  there  could 
be  no  successful  resistance  to  it.  It  is  entirely  simple,  and 
if  it  were  true,  there  would  be  an  end.  It  is  its  inad- 
equacy which  stirs  the  mind  to  perpetual  resistance. 

(10)  Nor  would  the  necessitarian,  if  his  view  were  a 
sound  one,  be  led  so  often  into  fatal  concessions.  There  is 
no  midway  ground,  we  must  accept  necessity  or  liberty. 
Few  have  the  boldness  to  take  necessity,  and  to  consistently 
defend  it.     Most,  like  Dr.  Carpenter,  are  tempted  just  at 


4:24:  PHIMART  VOLITION  OR  CEOICE. 

the  end  to  claim  sometliing,  or  to  concede  something  which 
undoes  all  their  work. 

(11)  The  palpable  evasions  of  the  necessitarian  lead  to 
the  same  conclusion.  Thus  Bain  ex23lains  the  action  of  the 
school-boy  by  transferring  attention  to  tlie  teacher,  and  al- 
lowing on  his  part  the  introduction  of  new  motives.  But 
this  involves  liberty.  If  the  boy  is  in  the  chain  of  existing 
motives,  the  teacher  is  also,  and  the  committee  also,  and  the 
community  also,  and  the  generation  as  well.  We  can  not 
by  going  backward  find  a  point  of  modification.  The  ac- 
tion of  the  boy  may  not  be  altered,  for  the  motives  are  not 
alterable. , 

(12)  If  there  is  liberty,  and  only  if  there  is  liberty,  can 
there  be  a  beginning.  Causation  knows  no  beginning,  no 
change  of  direction,  no  possibilities.  Simple  facts  without 
ultimate  reasons,  inflexible  and  inex]3licable  movement,  are 
all  that  remain  to  us.  If  we  seem  to  see  reasons  in  this 
on-going,  something  addressed  to  a  rational  comprehen- 
sion, the  vision  is  a  mirage  of  the  mind  itself,  ^ew  facts 
are  all  that  we  have.  Our  vessel  sails  under  bare  poles,  we 
know  not  w^hither,  before  an  invariable  wind.  Inquiry  is 
futile,  superfluous,  a  mere  accident  of  the  motion  itself. 

The  first  five  of  the  reasons  now  offered  spring  from  the 
very  nature  of  mind.  These  are  followed  by  three  others 
which  show  that  the  doctrine  of  necessity  can  gain  no  clear- 
ness of  conception  without  embracing  materialism.  Three 
more  arguments  spring  from  the  weak  way  in  which  the 
doctrine  is  centered  in  itself,  and  the  last  argument  turns 
on  the  relation  of  liberty  to  ontology. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

Dynam>ics  of  the  Will,  and  of  the  Mind. 

§  1.  The  will  is  so  nearly  single,  that  little  is  to  be  said 
of  the  form  of  its  activity.  There  is  bnt  one  line  of  exer- 
tion, executive  volitions  resting  back  on  a  choice.  This 
endures  as  a  permanent  impulse,  and  finds  execution  in 
mingled  voluntary  and  vital  action.  From  what  has  been 
said,  it  is  evident  that  animals  are  destitute  of  all  proper 
power  of  choice.  Their  action  is  the  unconscious  or  the  in- 
voluntary resolution  of  physical  states  and  feelings  into 
muscular  impulse.  The  feelings  which  arise  in  conscious- 
ness are  as  directly  connected  with  action  as  those  physical 
states  which  never  there  present  themselves,  but,  in  the 
darkness  and  concealment  of  a  purely  vital  force,  accomplish 
their  ptirpose. 

The  will  is  strengthened  chiefly  by  use,  and  that  not 
alone  by  its  own  activity,  but  even  more  by  the  restraint 
and  check  thus  imposed  on  the  appetites  and  passions. 
These,  allowed  control  for  any  length  of  time,  assume  so 
domineering  and  persistent  a  form,  that  the  will  regains 
only  with  the  utmost  difficulty  the  ground  that  it  has  lost. 
This  anarchy  of  the  soul  is,  of  all  forms  of  confusion,  the 
least  susceptible  of  a  remedy,  as  aid  cannot  come  from 
abroad,  and  the  chronic  weakness  of  the  powers  that  offer 
resistance  to  the  mob  of  impulses,  and  establish  authority 
over  them,  speedily  passes  beyond  all  cure.  Some  sudden 
shock  of  the  moral  nature,  in  rare  cases  the  awakening  of  a 
strong  desire,  is  the  only  spring  of  hope. 

In  speaking  of  the  activities  of  the  mind  as  a  whole,  we 


426     DYNAMICS  OF  THE  WILL  AND  OF  THE  MIND, 

are  to  remember,  tliat  these  bear  by  uo  means  the  same  pro- 
portion to  each  other  in  different  individuals.  Not  only 
are  sj^ecific,  intellectual  endowments  and  feelings  diverse  in 
power,  the  three  classes  of  activities  present  various  degrees 
of  development.  In  one,  intellectual  effort  absorbs  the 
mind;  in  another,  the  emotions  are  the  chief  seats  of  ac- 
tion ;  while  a  third  is  possessed  of  a  will  that  lapses  into 
stubbornness,  through  the  inefficiency  of  the  thoughts  in  its 
guidance.  Moreover,  different  temperaments  cause  essen- 
tially the  same  faculties  to  exhibit  very  different  degrees  of 
force.  The  nutritive  and  the  nervous  systems  are  most 
intimately  associated  with  the  mind.  Great  impressibility 
and  power  in  the  nervous  organization  ;  a  preponderance  of 
the  nutritive  functions  giving  a  full  animal  life ;  nervous 
power  well-balanced  and  well-sustained  by  the  nutritive  sys- 
tem, constitute  the  nervous,  phlegmatic  and  sanguine  tem- 
peraments, which  greatly  modify  the  measure,  hopefulness, 
and  satisfaction  of  intellectual  efforts,  even  when  the  natur- 
al endowments  of  mind  are  nearly  the  same.  As  the  body 
is  at  once  the  medium  by  which  impressions  reach  the 
mind,  the  source  whence  the  strength  for  their  considera- 
tion is  secured,  and  the  instrument  by  which  its  23ractical 
and  theoretical  conclusions  concerning  them  are  expressed, 
the  importance  of  the  physical  conditions  of  mental  activity 
cannot  easily  be  over-stated,  nor  be  too  carefully  inquired 
into.  These  researches,  however,  pertain  chiefly  to  physi- 
ology. It  is  our  task  to  trace  the  strictly  mental  interplay 
of  the  faculties,  a  dependence,  not  primarily  the  result  of 
physical  connections. 

§  2.  Thought,  feeling  and  volition,  express  the  order  in 
which  action  ordinarily  occurs,  the  line  along  which  any 
influence  brought  to  bear  on  the  mind  passes  through  its 
faculties. 

Yet  these   three  steps,  though  usual,  are  not  all  neces- 


RELATIONS  OF  MENTAL  ACTION.  427 

sarj.  Through  sensation,  feeling  may  be  directly  occa- 
sioned, and  activity  immediately  follow  from  it,  yet  this  is 
of  an  involuntary  character.  Thouglit,  also,  unites  feeling 
and  volition,  points  out  the  23resent  relation  of  things,  and 
guides  the  mind  in  the  right  use  of  means.  While  the  first 
movement  is  in  the  direction  now  indicated,  there  are  reflex 
influences  of  an  opposite  character.  The  feelings  affect 
strongly  the  thoughts.  They  direct  attention  to  pleasing 
objects,  fasten  the  faculties  upon  them,  and  thus  intensify 
the  emotions  already  established.  The  candor  and  fairness 
of  the  judgment  are  lost  through  this  influence  of  the  feel- 
ings, withdrawing  attention  from  facts  displeasing  to  them, 
and  minutely  and  laboriously  searching  out  those  which 
maintain  and  justify  their  action.  Unusual  intellectual  and 
moral  development  is  required  on  the  part  of  one  possessed 
of  strong  feelings  to  reach  even  ordinary  impartiality,  and 
to  give  any  considerable  weight  to  reasons  for  action  op- 
posed to  the  inclinations.  The  intellect  thus  becomes  the 
instrument  of  the  feelings,  using  all  its  acuteness,  its  power 
of  presentation  and  argument  in  behalf  of  conclusions 
already  reached  by  the  heart.  When  the  intellect  is  thus 
the  sagacious  counsellor  or  the  cunning  attorney  of  the 
emotions,  tlie  distortions  of  truth  are  proportioned  to  its 
strength,  and  the  most  powerful  thinking  is  productive  only 
of  misleading  sophisms. 

The  feelings  in  the  same  way  frequently  engage  the 
will,  and  the  man  becomes  headstrong  and  willful  in  the 
line  of  action  indicated  by  them.  There  is  no  defence 
against  this  but  that  quick  moral  sense,  which  responds 
w^ith  an  adequate  alternative  to  the  selfish  suggestions  of 
the  mind,  and  introduces  a  calm  consideration  of  the  claims 
of  duty  in  each  case.  The  only  sufficient  resistance  to  this 
domination  which  strong  feelings  are  sure  to  assume  over 
the  intellect  and  the  will,  through  the  one  evoking  all  the 


42 S     DYJS'AMICS  OF  THE  WILL  AND  OF  THE  MIND. 

imagery  which  influences  j)assion,  and  the  reasons  which 
justify  it,  and  through  the  other  imparting  a  haste  and 
momentum  to  action  which  at  once  clear  the  way  of  all 
ordinary  obstacles,  and  render  the  onset  easy  and  retreat 
difficult,  is  afforded  by  the  moral  nature,  calming  feeling, 
soliciting  candor,  and  holding  the  will  in  the  leash  of  duty. 

Government  in  the  mind  is  not  then  self-evolved,  is  not 
the  spontaneous  inter-action  of  forces  graded  to  their  tasks, 
but  is  found  in  the  direct,  authoritative  claims  of  a  law-giv- 
ing power.  The  order  of  the  mind  is  moral,  not  natural ; 
one  of  command  and  obedience,  and  not  of  self -poised  pow- 
ers ;  one  to  be  discerned  and  pursued,  not  one  to  be  devel- 
oped simply.  The  disorder  of  transgression  discovers  it- 
self, not  in  faculties  lost,  not  in  addition  to,  or  subtraction 
from  the  original  powers  of  the  mind,  but  in  that  dispro- 
portionate develojoment  among  them  which  is  the  fruit  of 
anarchy,  of  usurpation  on  the  one  side,  and  overthrow  on 
the  other. 

§  3.  If  we  look  at  the  influences  at  work  on  any  one 
character  at  any  one  time  to  make  it  what  it  is,  there  seems 
to  be  in  it  very  little  power  of  resistance  or  modification. 
The  thoughts  take  such  partial  and  justifying  views  of  ac- 
tion, so  blind  themselves  to  the  future  results  and  even  the 
immediate  consequences  of  conduct,  so  misrender  and  mis- 
interpret facts ;  the  feelings  so  reward  and  maintain  indul- 
gence, cast  such  disfavor  and  so  repulsive  an  atmosphere 
over  every  form  of  restraint,  choke  up  the  path  of  reform 
with  so  many  imaginary  difficulties,  and  find  the  accustomed 
way  so  open,  so  easy,  so  inevitable ;  the  will  submits  so 
easily  where  it  is  wont  to  submit,  is  so  reluctant  to  open  a 
new  conflict,  and  so  weak  to  resist  the  impatient,  persistent 
and  domineering  passions  and  appetites,  that  swarm  in 
troops  around  it  at  every  suggestion  of  change^  that  much 
modification   of   character   established   in   its   springs   and 


MODIFIGA  TION.  429 

conditions  of  action  seems  to  ns  impossible.  Indeed  only 
the  breaking  in  of  an  eartliquake-power  is  able  to  alter  and 
redirect  the  channels  in  which  the  activities  of  the  soul 
are  flowing. 

If,  however,  we  look  at  long  periods,  we  see  that  there 
is  a  supreme  control  of  the  will  over  character.  Single 
changes  that  in  the  outset  are  alien  to  the  general  move- 
ment prepare  the  way  for  others.  [N^ew  thoughts  give  rise 
to  new  feelings,  and  these  slowly  displace  the  old  ;  the  ac- 
tivity induced  in  fresh  pursuits  establishes  and  strengthens 
the  will,  and  sets  gradually  at  work  varied  reflex  forces, 
giving  different  external  and  internal  conditions,  new  feel- 
ings, motives  and  rewards  of  effort.  At  length,  the  mind 
accepts  spontaneously  the  changed  form  of  life,  and  a  com- 
plete transformation  is  achieved.  There  is  a  momentum  in 
mind  which  prevents  its  movements  from  becoming  way- 
ward and  fitful,  and  yet  there  is  present  a  force  which  can 
slowly  and  certainly  bend  them  in  any  direction  it  chooses. 

"  There  are  a  thousand  microscopic  motives,"  says  Mal- 
lock,  "too  small  for  us  to  be  actively  conscious  of,  which 
according  to  how^  they  settle  on  us,  will  really  decide  the 
question."'^  This  is  true  only  when  we  leave  ourselves  to 
the  drift  of  life.  I^othing  is  provided  for,  circumstan- 
ces accumulate,  push  toward  one  issue,  and  make  every 
other  issue  increasingly  difficult.  A  firm  and  comprehen- 
sive purpose  anticipates  such  results,  evading  them  before 
they  are  reached.  If  to  such  a  purpose  we  add  active, 
broad  and  candid  judgment,  pouring  into  the  mind  new 
light,  new  incentives,  and  the  suggestions  of  new  methods, 
we  have  the  conditions  of  a  character  ripening  in  strength 
and  in  self-guidance.  The  key  of  the  movement  lies  in  apt 
and  growling  knowledge,  bringing  to  the  mind  fresh  terms 
of  activity,  and  putting  a  sober  will  constantly  at  the  helm. 

*  Is  Life  Wortli  Living,  p.  259. 


430     DYNAMICS  OF  THE  WILL  AND  OF  THE  MIND. 

§  4.  Tlie  feelings  are  plainly  most  central  and  imj^or- 
tant  in  the  constitution  of  the  mind.  Here  is  the  seat  of 
enjoyment,  of  all  good.  Thence  spring  the  motives  which 
influence  the  will,  which  offer  its  alternatives,  and  thither 
return  the  fruits  of  choice — fresh  gratifications  with  accom- 
panying incentives  to  effort.  The  intellect  is  scarcely  less 
instrumental  to  the  emotions.  It  multiplies  its  resources 
that  these  may  be  nourished ;  it  fills  its  canvas  with  figures 
that  these  may  be  profoundly  moved.  The  emotions  are 
sooner  or  later  endowed  with  all  the  treasures  of  thought, 
and  the  painter,  the  poet,  all  who  can  accomplish  this  trans- 
fer most  quickly,  skillfully,  perfectly,  become  the  chief 
artists  in  human  society.  The  merchant,  the  inventor, 
labor  for  grosser  forms  of  transmutation,  the  artist  for 
higher,  the  true  hero,  for  the  highest.  He  alone  lifts 
thought  into  the  moral  sublimity  of  an  actual  life,  that  is 
integral  with  the  triumph  of  order — the  ample  victory  of 
the  law  of  freedom  in  the  universe  of  God. 

As  the  impulses  to  action  spring  from  the  feelings,  and 
the  fruits  of  action  return  to  them,  it  is  evident  that  happi- 
ness must  depend  on  the  predominant  emotions.  Out  of 
the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life.  The  physical  feelings,  the 
appetites,  are  primitive  sources  of  pleasure ;  yet  they  are 
necessarily  intermittent,  and  can  be  made  safely  to  occupy 
but  a  small  part  of  the  time  which  falls  to  us.  Moreover, 
their  permanent  enjoyment  depends  on  physical  vigor,  and 
this  must  be  maintained  by  that  temperance,  by  that  well- 
regulated  activity  which  sets  these  enjoyments  still  further 
limits.  It  is  only  on  the  condition  of  making  the  aj)petites 
secondary,  incidental  sources  of  good,  that  they  can  at  all 
maintain  their  position  as  safe  and  just  means  of  pleasure. 

The  intellectual  feelings  are,  indeed,  capable  of  incessant 
activity,  yet  fail  of  conferring  a  sufficient  and  permanent 
good.     There  is  not  that  repose  in  them,  that  perfect  reac- 


SPIRITUAL  FEELINGS.  431 

tion  of  gratification  on  the  appetitive  desire  wliicli  arrests 
it  in   complete   indulgence.      These   intellectual   impulses 
become  rather  increasingly  exorbitant  in  their  claims,  fling 
us  ever  forward  in  search  of  the  unattained,  and  leave  us 
restless   and  unsatisfied  with  every  acquisition  actually  se- 
cured.    If  we  check  the  desire,  we  are  immediately  thrown 
back  on  other  sources  of  good ;  it  fails  any  longer  to  main- 
tain our  active  powers  and  call  forth  our  hopes.     We  must 
once  again  put  to  ourselves  the  question.     "What  are  those 
grounds,  those  sources  of  independent  pleasure,  of  which  at 
length,  with  the  means  in  our  hands  that  wealth,  power, 
and  rank  confer,  we  are  to  avail  ourselves  in  reaching:  com- 
plete  and  permanent  happiness  ?     If,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
steadily  inflame  and  expand  the  desires,  we  are  fed  on  prom- 
ises never  realized,  we  are  driven  from  one  round  of  activity 
to  another.     We  spread  a  feast,  but  have  no  time  to  partake 
of  it,  or,  beginning  to  partake,  are  disappointed  in  its  qual- 
ity.    The  good  is  not  in  it  we  thought  to  be  there,  and  we 
are  driven  to  the  hopeless  expedient  of  still  farther  enlarg- 
ing our  board,  enriching  our  service,  and  multiplying  our 
viands.     It  thus  not  unfrequently  happens,  that  the  appe- 
tites decrease  in  the  ratio  in  w^hich  the  means  of  their  grati- 
fication increase,  and,  at  length,  under  this  ever-returning 
experience,  we  discover  that  desires  are  wearing  us  out  with 
unrequited  labor;  that  the  coin   is   indeed   paid   into  the 
hand,  but  that  it  has  lost  its  purchasing  power;  that  we 
have  served  for  Rachel,  and  that  Leah  has  been  given  us. 

The  spiritual  feelings,  on  the  contrary,  yield  adequate 
and  supreme  pleasure  for  several  reasons.  The  higher  in- 
tuitions call  forth  emotions  which  are  of  a  primitive  and 
permanent  character;  unlike  the  appetites,  they  may  ac- 
company our  every  action  with  subdued  pleasure,  or  with 
the  swell  of  buoyant  emotion.  They  may  give  way  to  out- 
side, incidental  enjoyments,  and  yet  return  to  us  as  the  un- 


432  PRIM  AMY  VOLITION  OR  CHOICE. 

dertone  of  a  steady  and  protracted  harmony.  Moreover, 
there  is  repose  in  them.  The  mind  is  filled  with  tlie  satis- 
faction which  truth,  beauty  and  virtue  afford ;  without  stim- 
ulating an  excessive  activity,  they  momentarily  reward  it. 
It  is  not  merely  a  good  in  advance,  but  one  in  possession, 
that  gives  to  the  contemplation  of  beauty,  of  physical  and 
moral  excellence,  a  supreme  and  abiding  pleasure.  The 
concurrent  reward  and  stimulus  of  the  faculties  take  from 
them  the  intense  thirst  of  desire,  the  restless,  insatiate  long- 
ing of  intellectual  emotions,  expanding  the  circle  each  in- 
stant, and  finding  it  forever  made  up  of  the  same  futile 
pleasures  ,in  greater  multiplicity. 

Again,  the  rational  gratifications  increase  in  scope  and 
in  purity  of  tone.  They  arise  from  intellections  which, 
with  the  growth  of  mind,  become  broader,  more  varied  and 
more  just.  They  yield,  therefore,  to  the  esthetical  and 
moral  sense  more  extended,  harmonious,  and  profound  im- 
pressions. 'No  one  exhausts  art,  no  one  measures  the  re- 
sources of  virtue,  nor  makes  barren  to  the  contemplation 
those  plans  and  that  providence  which  are  working  the 
world  up,  with,  all  its  stubborn  and  refractory  materials, 
into  a  perfect  and  permanent  product  of  religious  art. 

These  pleasures  owe  their  high  character  also  to  the  ex- 
tent in  which  they  combine  and  blend  all  the  activities  of 
the  triple  powers  of  man.  The  intellect  is  most  active  in 
preparing  the  conditions,  in  giving  the  grounds  of  esthetical 
and  ethical  intuitions,  while  the  intuitions  combine  insepar- 
ably perception  and  emotion.  To  see  the  true,  the  beautiful 
and  the  good  is  to  feel  their  power.  Nov  is  the  will  inac- 
tive. Under  the  surface  of  the  mind,  fully  occupied  with 
these  noblest  objects  of  contemplation,  there  flows  a  steady 
purpose  to  conform  all  action  to  them,  never  to  mar  them, 
to  win  them  by  becoming  a  part  of  them.  Here  is  doubt- 
less the  secret  of  the  repose,  the  rest  of  truth,  art  and  virtue, 


PLA  T  AND  LABOR.  433 

that  they  remove  all  conflict  from  our  powers,  and  blend 
them  in  satisfied  and  indivisible  activity.  This  is  not  as- 
serted of  art  as  divorced  from  virtue,  but  of  art  as  the 
highest  embodiment  of  rational  life,  of  virtue. 

The  chief  difference  between  play  and  labor  seems  to  be 
that  the  one  gives  vent  to  a  superabundant  power  and  life 
in  a  direction  in  wdiicli  it  spontaneously  flows,  and  tlie  other 
demands,  iii  view  of  a  reward,  exertion  to  which  the  physi- 
cal or  intellectual  state  does  not  prompt.  Labor  approaches 
play  in  its  character  in  proportion  as  the  effort  becomes 
spontaneous.  Now  success  stimulates  the  feelings,  and  the 
quickened  feelings  arouse  the  active  powers  in  the  direction 
of  their  gratification.  Hence  it  happens,  that  those  whose 
labor  is  abundantly  rewarded  often  take  so  keen  a  delight 
in  it,  as  scarcely  to  be  willing  to  turn  aside  for  so-called 
play.  The  true  amelioration  of  labor  is  success,  the  success 
which  expresses  power  and  enhances  it,  making  realization 
easy  and  sportive.  Drudgery  is  not  so  much  labor  as  poorly 
requited  labor.  Hence  labor  that  is  undertaken  under  the 
prompting  of  strong  and  gratified  desire,  is  much  more 
easily  endured  than  the  same  exertion  when  coerced.  Self- 
directed  and  prosperous  labor  will,  in  proportion  as  these 
elements  of  liberty  and  power  enter  into  it,  assume  the 
character  of  play,  and  the  ultimate  lifting  up  of  the  burden 
of  toil  will  be  found  in  a  more  spontaneous  and  successful 
movement,  that  is,  in  one  more  thoroughly  spiritual.  Ex- 
actly in  the  degree  in  which  higher  power  is  present  and 
prevalent,  do  we  already  see  the  servitude  of  labor  removed. 
Beauty  and  virtue  must  assume  this  easy,  irrepressible  char- 
acter which  belongs  to  the  physical  putting  forth  of  ani- 
mal life,  before  they  can  lay  aside  the  harsh  aspect  of 
toil  and  struggle,  and  present  the  beauty  of  angelic  strength 
— strength  that  is  no  more  burdened  by  the  load  laid  upon, 
it,  than  the  hero  of  the  ring  with  his  own  muscle. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

The  Relation  of  the  System  here  offered  to  the  Prevalent 

Forms  of  Philosophy. 

§  1.  The  inquiries  of  broadest  outside  and  inside  inter- 
est as  regards  any  system  of  philosophy  are:  How  does 
it  unite  the  intellectual  to  the  physical  world  ?  "Which, 
if  eitherj  does  it  absorb  in  the  other  ?  What  are  with  it 
the  pregnant,  ontological  principles  ?  The  philosophy  now 
offered  strives  to  maintain,  so  far  as  man  is  concerned, 
physical  and  mental  phenomena  on  an  independent  basis ; 
so  far  as  God  is  concerned,  it  centres  and  absorbs  them  both 
in  Him.  It  thus  endeavors  to  explain  the  familiar  facts  of 
experience,  not  as  a  vision,  delusive  in  its  form ;  but  as  the 
substantial,  sufficient  frame-work  of  knowledge.  It  does 
not  by  thought  abolish  that  which  called  forth  thought,  but 
retains  entire  the  phenomena  it  seeks  to  expound.  Indeed, 
it  is  difficult  to  see  on  what  ground  the  reasoning  of  a  few 
is  to  be  accepted,  while  it  overturns  fundamentally  the  con- 
clusions of  the  many  concerning  facts  of  which  each  is  in- 
dependently cognizant.  To  yield  our  faith  to  such  theories 
seems  to  be  a  surrender  of  the  trustworthiness  of  our  facuh 
ties,  since  with  almost  perfect  unanimity  and  endless  reit- 
eration they  have  reached  results  exactly  oj)posite  to  those 
thus  offered.  Nor  is  it  an  answer  to  this  statement  to  say, 
that  such  a  submission  of  the  philosophical  to  the  common 
mind  precludes  progress.  It  does  not  preclude  the  addi- 
tion of  new  facts,  a  more  careful  analysis  of  old  facts,  with 
the  correction  of  opinions  that  is  sure  to  follow.  It  does 
cast   suspicion   on  a  movement,   that   it   pre-supposes   the 


TRUSTWOIiTniNESS  OF  OUR  FACULTIES.  435 

entire  error  and  deoeptiveness  of   all  spontaneous   convic- 
tions, denies  the  validity  of  every  conclusion  but  its  own, 
and  will  not  £;o  to  the  common  mind  for  the  facts_  even 
that  seek  statement  and  explanation  ;  for  the  facts_  without 
which  there  could  be  no  philosophy.     Such  theories  shake 
centrally  the  structure  of  knowledge,  and  lead  to  a  complete 
distrust  of  those  faculties  which  have  been  so  signally/  so 
universally,  so  completely  wrong  in  directions  wholly  open 
to  their  action.     To  make  one,  two,  three  mistakes,  and  re- 
tain confidence  is  possible,  to  affirm  that  everything  thought 
hitherto  has  been  a  mistake,  is  to  reflect  the  most  gloomy 
uncertainty  on  our  present  conclusions,  which  have  no  o  her 
verification  than  that  they  are  the  last  results  of  faculties 

hitherto  always  at  fault.  .     .     ^v 

That  a  system  of  philosophy  lies,  in  the  mam,  m  the 
line  of  recognized  conclusions,  gathering  up,  harmonizing 
and  expounding  them,  furnishes  the  same  evidence  of  its 
truth  as  that  afforded  to  a  physical  theory  by  the  fact,  that 
it  easily  includes  and  explains  the  facts  under  discussion; 
or  to  a  social  theory  by  the  fact,  that  it  recognizes  and 
makes  clear  events  of  hourly  occurrence.      Noris  it  suf- 
ficient to  give  alleged  reasons  why  men  have  been  mis- 
taken; universal  and  complete  mistake  is  an  impeachment 
of  the  mind  whose  consequences  cannot  be  evaded. 

We  postulate  in  the  system  now  presented,  the  trust- 
worthiness of  all  our  faculties  in  their  careful,  coiTected, 
lecritimate  exercise;  and   accept   as   proof   of  a  faculty  or 
power,  steady,  reiterative  action  in  any  direction,  yieldmg 
fruits  of  knowledge.     What  we  see  and  hear,  we  accept  as 
seen  and  heard,  because  our  faculties  are  self-consistent  and 
persistent  in  the  affirmation.     They  renew  the  impressions 
n  the  same  form  on  each^  like  occasion.     For  a  like  reason 
we  accept  the  conclusions  of  judgment.     If  we  reached  a 
different  result  each  time  we  reviewed  the  proof  of  a  propo- 


436        THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

sition,  we  should  trust  no  one  of  our  conclusions.  We  be- 
lieve what  we  believe,  because  the  mind,  on  repeated  in- 
quiry, arrives  again  and  again  at  the  same  convictions. 
Thus  is  it  with  memory.  We  are  uncertain  when  we  find 
inconsistent  and  changeable  impressions ;  we  are  certain 
when  the  faculty  restores  the  same  image  on  each  occasion. 
We  start  with  no  a  priori  theory  as  to  what  faculties  the 
mind  can  have.  We  recognize  as  a  fact  that  it  does  do 
what  it  seems  to  do,  and  take  as  a  sufficient  and  ultimate 
proof  of  its  power  to  impart  and  impart  correctly  any 
knowledge,  the  observed  fact,  that  it  does  do  this  repeatedly 
and  consistently.  We  cannot,  therefore,  accept  the  exist- 
ence of  the  notion  of  causation,  and  recognize  the  constant 
use  which  the  mind  makes  of  it,  and  at  the  same  time  affirm 
it  to  be  illusory.  The  admitted  fact  establishes  a  power  of 
mind  to  discern  and  employ  this  notion,  and  is  thus  a  suffi- 
cient proof  of  the  correctness  of  such  a  notion.  We  should 
as  soon  say,  the  mind  insists  that  it  sees,  but  the  vision  is 
fanciful ;  as  to  say,  the  mind  persists  in  assigning  causes, 
but  it  has  no  ground  for  such  assignment.  The  simple  fact, 
that  it  does  persistently  assign  them,  is  all  the  proof  we  are 
resting  on  in  any  department  of  knowledge. 

We  postulate,  then,  the  assertions,  that  the  mind  does 
what  it  does  by  virtue  of  a  power  of  doing  it,  and  that  the 
habitual  conclusions  of  a  power  are  sufficient  evidence,  and 
the  only  possible  evidence  of  its  existence  and  their  own 
truth.  If  the  mind  supplies  ideas,  in  a  uniform  way,  ideas 
which  the  senses  alone  can  not  reach,  then  this  fact  is  satis- 
factory proof,  that  these  ideas  rest  back  on  a  distinct  fac- 
ulty, and  are  sufficiently  verified  by  that  faculty.  The  ^\\\- 
losophy  here  presented  bridges  the  chasm  between  mind 
and  matter,  not  by  direct  sensation,  but  indirectly,  by  in- 
tuitive ideas,  whose  presence  gives  occasion  to  the  discus- 
sion, and  makes  it  intelligible  to  us.      In  pronouncing  so 


KNOWLEDGE  OF  PHYSICAL  WORLD.  4:37 

authoritatively,  as  some  do,  that  matter  is  cut  off  hopelessly 
from  mind,  that  there  can  be  no  communication  between 
them  they  seem  to  contradict  their  own  statement ;  since 
the  mind  is  dealing  with  matter  in  the  very  affirmation  by 
which  it  declares  matter  to  be  unapproachable.     It  is  not, 
then  with  the  idea  of  matter,  that  the  mind  finds  difficulty. 
This'  it  works  with  in  all  its  theories,  and  discovers  nothing 
in  it  self-destructive,  or  destructive  to  the  notion  of  mind. 
Whether,   however,  this   idea,  so   manageable   withm   the 
mind,  has  any  outward  thing  that  corresponds  with  it,  is  a 
question  of  simple  proof,  and,  if   such  proof  be  present 
yields   no  new   perplexity.      If   the  mind  can  m  thought 
handle  things  so  unlike  itself  as  natural  objects,  it  can  also 
recognize  their  actual  being  on  sufficient  evidence.     But  it 
is  said,  there  can  be  no  such  evidence,  for  such  evidence 
implies  not  an  ideal,  but  an  actual  influence  of  matter  on 
mind.     Is  there,  then,  a  clear  a  priori  impossibility,  that 
there   should  be  found  in  the   phenomena   of   mmd  such 
traces  of  the  influences  of  matter  as  to  furnish  the  grounds 
for  an  inference  of  its  existence  ?     To  the  ordinary  mmd 
this  question  presents  not  the  least  difficulty.     To  it,  sensa- 
tions,  perceptions,  are  plainly  such  traces.     But,  says  one 
who  has  longer  contemplated  the  problem,  is  not  space  the 
condition  of  all  material  being,  and  is  not  this  the  one  form 
which  has  no  actual  relevance  to  acts  of  mind  ?     Is  not  con- 
sciousness the  essential  characteristic  of  thought,  and  does 
not  this  in  turn  exclude  altogether  physical  forces  ?     How 
then  shall  a  material  force  strike  within  consciousness,  or 
how  shall  a  mental  activity  leave  it  to  appear  m  space? 
Here  undoubtedly  our  powers  of  explanation  are  at  fault. 
The  inquiries  put  us  lie  too  deep  in  the  secret  nature,  the 
unphenomenal  nature  of  things  to  admit  of  that  phenomenal 
statement  or  explanation  which  is  sought  for.     Indeed,  m 
the  very  language  in  which  our  queries  are  urged,  we  have 


438        THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

over-leaped  the  limits  of  clear  thought.  In  speaking  of  a 
mental  activity  as  leaving  consciousness,  or  a  physical  force 
as  entering  it,  we  have  subjected  to  the  conditions  of  space 
that  which  is  wholly  foreign  tliereto.  Yet  tliese  embarrass- 
ments should  be  no  ground  of  disquiet,  since,  sooner  or 
later,  whatever  path  we  take,  we  reach  the  unphenomenal, 
and  thus  the  ultimate.  The  how  of  pure  thought  is  as  un- 
intelligible as  the  how  of  pure  matter,  and  the  inter-depen- 
dence of  the  two  is  no  more  obscure  than  the  manner  of  the 
existence  of  either.  The  nature  of  thought  is  as  unknown 
to  us  as  anything  can  be.  We  discover  easily  the  relations 
of  things  that  lie  in  its  light,  but  what  that  light  is  in  which 
they  are  seen,  what  is  the  sub-phenomenal  nature  of  the  ac- 
tivity whose  product  we  retain  as  a  judgment,  is  wholly  in- 
scrutable in  the  sense  of  being  capable  of  any  other  phenom- 
enal rendering  than  that  through  which  we  actually  know 
it.  When  we  reach  the  bounds  of  events,  we  also  reach  the 
limits  of  a  certain  form  of  explanation.  Yet  we  cannot  deny 
the  forms  of  existence  that  lie  beyond,  since  such  a  denial  is 
itself  the  source  of  greater  perplexities  than  those  it  seeks 
to  escape.  Moreover,  that  space  is  not  directl}^  or  indi- 
rectly penetrable  by  the  activities  of  mind,  is  a  proposition 
whose  conditions  are  too  obscure  to  suffer  it  to  be  ranked 
as  an  a  priori  conception.  Were  it  not  for  our  belief  in  the 
actual  existence  of  the  external  world,  and  our  connection 
with  it,  there  would  be  no  problem,  since  ideally  the  mind 
deals  freely  with  space.  If  matter  did  not  exist,  if  powers 
to  apprehend  it  did  not  belong  to  us,  there  would  be  noth- 
ing to  call  forth  the  question  which  perplexes  us.  The  very 
query  itself  tlius  becomes  proof  of  the  fact. 

We  are  not  alone  in  an  inability  to  solve  ultimate  prob- 
lems, pertaining  to  matter  beyond  the  bounds  of  experience. 
Indeed  an  experience  that  should  commence  with  a  com- 
plete knowing,  that  should  even  know  how  it  knew,  would 


SPACE  AND  CONSCIOUSNESS.  439 

be  an  eye  that  saw  itself,  an  ear  that  heard  itself.  Mind  is 
not  such  an  organ.  It  reveals  thought,  not  the  nature  of 
the  thinking  powers  ;  its  phenomenal,  formal  character,  not 
the  very  essence  of  the  act  itself.  All  that  we  claim  is, 
that  there  is  no  a  priori  impossibility  discoverable  by  us, 
making  a  transfer  of  influence  from  mind  to  matter,  from 
matter  to  mind,  an  absurdity.  Our  last  traces  of  physical 
force  in  the  movement  inward  are  found  in  the  brain,  our 
first  traces  in  the  movement  outward  are  also  met  with  at 
the  same  point.  Thus  far  only  can  the  eye  follow  material 
changes ;  here  is  it  first  able  to  pick  them  up.  How  the 
last  nervous  impulse  is  linked  to  the  play  of  consciousness, 
or  how  a  pure  volition  breaks  forth  and  liberates  a  physical 
force  without  itself  becoming  such  a  force,  we  cannot  ex- 
plain. We  only  affirm  that  our  ignorance  is  so  complete 
as  to  cut  us  off  as  perfectly  from  a  denial  of  the  possibility 
of  such  a  transfer,  as  from  an  exposition  of  it.  We  simply 
do  not  see  that  the  realms  of  space  and  consciousness  any- 
where over-lap,  or  even  touch  each  other.  We  are  pro- 
foundly igtiorant  of  the  nature  of  any  connection  between 
the  two.  We  therefore  satisfy  ourselves  with  denying  the 
existence  of  any  a  priori  proof  against  such  a  dependence  ; 
while  experience,  under  the  spontaneous  interpretation 
which  the  human  mind  everywhere  gives  it,  constantly 
affirms  it  as  a  fact. 

In  the  ideal  world,  the  mind  freely  contemplates  physi- 
cal being  and  forces.  It  moves  at  liberty  among  them,  re- 
gards them  as  modified  by  its  own  activity,  and  is,  in  turn, 
modified  in  its  thinking  by  them.  It  thus  far  recognizes 
no  incompatibility  between  the  two  realms  ;  but  is  prepared 
to  accept  those  actual  relations  which  give  occasion  to  these 
ideal  ones.  If  an  a  priori  necessity,  ingrained  in  mind, 
divided  the  two  fields,  how  could  the  mind  so  easily  escape 
it  in  its  own  spontaneous  movements  ?     It  does  not,  can  not 


4:4:0        TUB  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

regard  lines  as  at  once  parallel  and  intersecting;  a  relation 
of  space  as  equivalent  to  one  of  time ;  how,  then,  can  it 
practically  accept  the  communicability  of  matter  and  mind, 
and  theoretically  pronounce  it  impossible  ? 

§  2.  An  increasingly  prevalent  form  of  philosopny,  held 
crudely  by  some  and  subtily  by  others,  is  materialism.  In 
its  most  logical,  yet  most  naked  and  repulsive  forms,  it  re- 
solves all  thought  into  the  mere  action  of  nervous  centres, 
induced  in  a  purely  physical  way  by  physical  forces.  This 
system  is  for  the  most  part  the  product  of  scientific  inquiry, 
a  study  of  the  laws  of  the  material  world  simply.  While 
affecting  great  contempt  for  a  priori  systems,  and  claiming 
experience  as  the  only  source  and  test  of  truth,  in  its  phil- 
osophy— by  courtesy  so  called — it  presents  an  example  of 
the  most  unreasonable  a  priori  method  anywhere  found  in 
the  progress  of  knowledge. 

The  entire  organ um,  the  scheme  of  inquiry  and  instru- 
ments of  thought,  with  which  it  approaches  the  intellectual 
world,  have  been  gathered  in  departments  utterly  alien  to 
the  one  to  be  contemplated.  Far  from  being  ready  to  ac- 
cept new  facts  under  their  own  laws,  philosophers  of  this 
school  approach  the  science  of  mind,  with  the  antecedent 
conviction,  that  physical  laws  reign  everywhere,  that  there 
is  the  same  fixed  dependence  of  events  in  the  realm  of 
thought  as  that  which  they  have  found  in  matter.  They 
thus,  with  the  blindness  of  a  limited  system,  push  up  the 
stream  of  causes  as  far  as  they  can  go,  and  then  deny  there 
is  anything  new  beyond.  As  this  theory  fails,  not  merely 
to  explain,  but  even  to  accept,  the  new  and  diverse  phe- 
nomena of  consciousness  ;  and  feebly  substitutes  for  them 
some  connected,  but  very  different  phenomena,  to  wit,  those 
of  the  nervous  centres,  we  feel  at  liberty,  giving  its  scien- 
tific inquiries  due  praise,  to  pass  it  very  lightly  as  a  philoso- 
phy.    It  deals  with  the  external  conditions  and  accompani- 


MA  TERIALI8M.  44: 1 

ments  of  mental  activity,  and  not  witli  the  inner  forms  and 
laws  of  those  activities.  Under  that  fatal  certainty  which 
causes  equivalent  errors  to  follow  each  other  at  opposite  ex- 
tremes, it  strives  to  stand  outside  in  space  and  expound  con- 
sciousness, as  formerly  the  hasty  philosopher  inclosed  in 
consciousness  constructed  his  outside  facts. 

The  last  gate  which  this  school  suppose  themselves  to 
have  opened,  at  which  the  powers  of  the  physical  world  are 
to  rush  in  and  submerge  those  of  mind,  is  that  known  as 
the  correlation  of  forces.     All  material  forces  are  converti- 
ble and  indestructible.     Hence  it  is  concluded,  that  those 
which  are  at  play  in  the  living  nervous  organism  mutually 
replace  each  other,  and  evolve  from  within  themselves  all 
the  most  subtile  and  the  most  palpable  of  the  activities  of 
rational  life.     Accept  this  relation  of  forces  in  the  body, 
and  we  yet  need  the   independent,  spontaneous  power  of 
mind.     The  mind  avails  itself  of  a  stream  of  forces  that 
flow  incessantly  through  the  physical  organization;  into  this 
it  dips  its  wheel,  and  w^ith  it  works  out  its  purposes.     This 
admission   by  no   means  closes   the   argument.     We   have 
here  a  telegraph,  we  discover  that  the  electric,   chemical, 
thermal,  mechanical  forces  liberated  are  so  far  equivalent 
as  to  induce  us  to  believe  that  they  are  perfectly  so.     We 
stand  in  an  office ;  we  behold  an  intelligible  cypher  rapidly 
appearing  on  the  ribbon  before  us ;  does  the  equivalence, 
the  indestructibility,  the  convertibility  of  the  forces  in  the 
mechanism  we  have  investigated,  explain  the  message  we 
have  received?     We  may  say,  that  nothing  has  been  lost 
or  added  to  the  sum  of  forces  concerned  in  the  transfer  of 
these  words.     Yery  well,  the  words  in  their  intelligibility 
still  seek  solution.     These   are  explained  by  the  constant 
interference  of  a  higher  power,  a  remote   operator,  above 
the   circle    of   self-balanced  forces  which  have  transferred 
the   motion  from  the  indicating  to   the  inscribing    index. 


442       THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHT. 

I  may  never  see  the  hand  that  plays  the  remote  key,  but  I 
cannot  fail  to  believe  in  its  existence,  nor  in  the  independ- 
ent, intelligent  character  of  the  force  that  presides  there.  I 
know  not  how  the  key  is  touched  by  which  the  self -poised, 
nervous  forces  of  the  brain  are  set  in  motion  ;  bat  in  the 
product  wrought  out,  I  do  see  unmistakably  the  evidence 
of  such  initiation,  guidance,  arrest.  The  continuity  and 
equality  of  the  forces  in  the  nervous  circuit,  if  fully  estab- 
lished, do  not  weaken  or  embarrass  the  conviction.  They 
simply  leave  us  where  they  found  us,  ignorant  of  the  way 
in  which  the  mind  employs  the  current  of  material  forces  ; 
these  still  yield  the  clearest  evidence  of  being  at  some  point 
of  their  circuit  intersected  by  another  and  higher  circle  of 
influences.  To  say  that  the  only  force  which  can  modify 
physical  forces  must  itself  be  a  physical  force,  betraying  its 
presence  among  them  as  a  new,  additive  power,  is  not 
merely  to  affirm  what  we  do  not  know,  but  is  to  inake  the 
assertion  that  the  intelligence  of  the  products  momentarily 
evolved  by  these  nervous  centres  does  not  indicate  a  like 
quality  in  the  ultimate  agency,  an  assertion  in  flat  contradic- 
tion of  the  principles  of  reasoning  on  which  w^e  habitually 
proceed. 

How  little  this  form  of  philosophy  can  accomplish  is 
evident  from  the  fact,  that  it  itself  must  admit,  that  some 
kinds  of  matter  are  intelligent,  self-conscious,  spontaneous, 
and  others  are  not.  Thus  having  laboriously  swallowed  up 
mind  in  matter,  it  is  compelled  to  re-include  under  matter, 
distinctions  in  every  way  as  perplexing  and  inscrutable  as 
those  displaced.  The  facts  remain,  and  either  matter  is 
self-conscious,  or  tliat  which  is  self-conscious  is  mind. 
Words,  rather  than  ideas,  are  thus  offered  as  explanations 
in  this  deceptive  resolution  of  two  distinct  elements  into 
one.  If  an  adversary  of  this  theory  chooses  to  add  the 
farther  affirmation  that  this   self-conscious  matter   is   also 


MATERIALISM.  443 

free,  the  point  can  only  be  fairly  settled  by  re-opening  the 
entire  discussion ;  for  it  is  antecedently  no  more  improbable 
that  matter  is  free,  than  it  is  that  matter  is  conscious,  and 
intelligent.  The  forces  concerned  in  intellectual  action  are 
either  conditioned  from  within  to  all  the  facts  of  mind,  and 
Ave  are  remitted  to  consciousness  to  determine  what  these 
facts  are  in  their  entire  complement ;  or  these  forces  are 
conditioned  to  their  action  from  without.  If  we  accept  the 
first  statement,  we  have  recognized  two  kinds  of  forces  or 
activities  utterly  distinct  from  each  other ;  if  we  accept  the 
last,  we  have  used  two  words,  and  called  one  set  of  forces 
appearing  in  space,  material ;  and  the  same  forces  arising 
in  consciousness,  mental ;  thus  overlooking  the  distinctions 
between  them.  What  j^ossible  explanation  is  there  in  this  ? 
Do  not  the  fundamental  differences  between  matter  and 
mind,  open  to  all  our  faculties,  remain  as  before  ?  It  would 
be  well  for  philosophers  to  remember  that  theories  can  not 
reflexively  wipe  out  facts,  and  that  those  of  mind  are  of  the 
most  primitive  and  undeniable  order.  If  either  of  the  two 
classes  of  facts  is  to  be  merged  in  the  other,  physical  ones 
necessarily  yield  to  those  of  mind,  as  in  their  nature  second- 
ary, being  known  only  as  they  affect  consciousness.  As  the 
material  world  is  at  best  reached  inferentially,  it  can  not 
logically  displace  the  very  faculties  that  know  it.  The 
knowing  must  have  precedence  of  the  thing  known.  If 
either  is  to  be  found  to  contain  the  other,  it  must  be  the 
first  the  second,  not  the  second  the  first. 

Materialism  does  not  always  assume  the  crude  form  now 
controverted.  It  has  sometimes  a  more  mixed  and  subtle 
character,  one  in  which  it  is  partially  blended  with  ideal- 
ism. Mr.  Mill,  while  deriving  all  knowledge  from  experi- 
ence, and  declining  to  recognize  any  intuitive  elements, 
nevertheless  leaves  the  existence  of  matter  in  doubt.  Sen- 
sations and  perceptions  are  accepted  in  an  ideal  form,  and 


444       THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

the  outside  world  of  realities,  which  lies  back  of  them,  is 
left  uiiapproached.  Such  a  system  is  beset  with  more  diffi- 
culties than  either  materialism  or  idealism.  Sensations, 
whose  existence  and  influence  lie  wholly  within  the  mind, 
can  with  less  reason  be  made  to  control  and  give  form 
to  the  mind,  than  matter  conceived  as  wholly  outside  and 
independent  of  the  intellectual  powers.  Indeed  it  is  not 
easy  to  see  how  a  perception  can  occupy  this  anomalous 
position,  on  the  one  side  giving  law  to  the  mind,  on  the 
other,  cut  off  from  all  known,  exterior  dependence,  and  rest- 
ing back  on  the  very  faculties  whose  form  it  controls. 

This  .system  exhibits  the  same  defective  analysis  which 
belongs  to  all  materialism.  Sj^ace  and  time  are  evolved 
from  experience,  though  they  are  the  conditions  of  experi- 
ence. They  are  made  to  spring  from  sensations,  though 
themselves  utterly  beyond  sensation.  Those  ideas  on  the 
other  hand,  that  are  admittedly  in  the  mind,  yet  admittedly 
beyond  experience,  are  pronounced  delusive.  Of  this  char- 
acter is  that  of  causation.  Breaking  this  cord  of  connec- 
tion, the  external  world  swings  loose  from  this  philosojDhy. 
There  lies  against  it  concisely  these  difticulties.  Claiming 
experience  to  be  the  source  of  knowledge,  it  elaborates  a 
system  far  removed  from  ordinary  conviction,  and  subver- 
sive of  many  of  its  most  cherished  opinions.  It  knows 
nothing  of  matter,  while  mankind  knows  this  chiefly.  It 
gives  sensations,  perceptions  control  over  the  mind,  while 
the  opinions  of  men  divide  control  between  outside  and  in- 
side conditions.  While  employing  it  makes  illusive,  in  its 
intellectual  basis,  the  notion  of  causation,  which  above  all 
has  nniversal  sway  in  the  practical  world. 

It  denies  moreover  necessity  to  any  ideas  whatever, 
while  the  whole  history  of  pure  mathematics  sliows  the 
contrary.  It  is  comj^elled  to  refer  to  experience  the  recog- 
nition   of   such  facts  as    this,  that   straight   lines,  parallel 


DIRECT  PERCEPTION.  445 

tliroiigli  a  portion  of  tlieir  extent,  are  so  tlirongli  their 
whole  extent.  Its  analyses  are  inadequate,  and  it  rejects 
without  reason  the  ideas  for  wliich  it  can  find  no  place  in 
its  system.  That  is  to  say,  it  makes  its  method  the  test  of 
the  facts,  and  not  the  facts  the  test  of  its  method.  There 
are  two  forms  or  tendencies  in  materialism ;  the  one  is 
found  in  the  identification  of  the  phenomena  of  matter  and 
mind,  and  the  other  in  the  identification  of  the  laws  of  mat- 
ter and  mind.  »  The  last  is  the  method  of  Mill  and  Spencer, 
and  is  not  less  destructive  of  the  facts  than  the  first. 

§  3.  The  next  system  of  which  we  shall  speak,  is  a 
mixed  one,  that  presented  by  Hamilton.  Its  most  striking 
feature  is,  that  it  makes  matter  itself  the  direct  object  of 
perception,  and  tlms,  losing  one  occasion  for  intuitive  ideas, 
accepts  a  part  of  them,  perverts  a  part,  and  neglects  a  part. 
Among  those  resolved  into  powerlessness,  are  causation,  lib- 
erty and  the  infinite.  We  need  only  to  speak  of  its  central 
characteristic,  the  direct  perception  of  matter.  Against  this 
there  holds,  we  believe,  the  very  generally  accepted  axiom 
that  nothing  can  act  save  where  it  is.  The  introduction  of 
the  adverb  where,  shows  this  statement  to  be  limited  to 
physical  forces,  since  these  alone  appear  in  spade,  alone 
have  locality.  Physical  forces  must  be  where  they  are  ex- 
ercised. This  will  hardly  be  denied  by  any  one.  For  a 
force  to  show  itself  as  a  force  where  it  is  not,  would  be  for 
it  to  be  and  not  to  be  at  the  same  point  at  the  same  time. 
Mind,  thought,  have  no  reference  to  space,  and  hence  it 
conveys  no  very  intelligible  idea  to  say,  that  the  mind  must 
be,  a  thought  must  be  where  it  acts.  Their  objects  of  con- 
sideration may  come  from  any  quarter,  and  any  distance  ; 
conclusions  may  strike  out  into  the  most  remote  regions, 
and  such  words  as  come  and  go,  near  and  distant,  have  only 
a  figurative  signification.  T^ow  perception,  till  the  brain  is 
passed,  is  a  thing  of  physical  forces,  and  each  organ  and 


446        THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

nerve  can  only  be  affected  by  that  within  it,  not  by  that 
without  it.  It  is  against  the  above  axiom  to  say,  that  I  feel 
the  stone,  meaning  thereby  that  the  sensation  is  outside  the 
organ  —  conversant,  less  or  more,  with  the  very  essence  of 
being  in  the  stone.  The  organ  is  affected  by  what  is  with- 
in itself ;  till  the  contour  of  its  own  states  is  penetrated,  the 
object  might  as  well  be  miles,  as  inches,  or  fractions  of  an 
inch  distant.  Physical  effects  lie  as  content  in  each  organ 
of  sense,  and  are  as  localized  within  it  as  is  the  object  with- 
out it.  If,  then,  these  physical  changes  which  accompanj^ 
perception,  sensation,  were  perceived  by  the  mind,  the  very 
object,  the  source  of  these,  would  not  thereby  be  directly 
known.  But  these  states  are  not  perceived,  we  know  noth- 
ing about  the  states  either  of  the  eye,  the  ear,  or  tongue,  in 
seeing,  hearing,  tasting.  Sensations  enter  consciousness, 
and  lose  at  once  their  special  organic  grounds.  When  we 
have  reached  the  last  physical  change  in  our  nervous  organ- 
ism, we  have  not  reached  the  first  thing  that  the  mind  is 
conscious  of  in  sensation,  l^o  organ  of  sensation  is  revealed 
by  its  own  sensations,  but  by  other  sensations  of  other  organs 
of  which  it  is  made  an  object.  If,  then,  the  mind  knows 
the  obj^t  in  perception,  it  is  not  by  the  movement  inward 
from  tlie  object,  since  this  finds  change,  when  from  it,  as  a 
cause,  there  arises  a  nervous  affection  in  an  organ  of  sense  ; 
and  this  again  meets  w^ith  a  second  inexplicable  change, 
when  there  is  a  transfer  to  consciousness,  and  the  true  con- 
tent of  the  mind  lies  within  it,  divested  of  physical  quali- 
ties. We  might  as  well  say,  that  the  first  ball  is  in  the 
second  ball  moving  after  concussion,  as  to  say,  that  the  very 
object  of  perception,  or  any  portion  of  it,  is  in  this  its  latest 
effect.  No,  the  second  and  third  ball  move  through  a 
change  within  themselves ;  the  organ  becomes  a  condition 
of  perception — itself  distinct — through  a  distinct  condition 
of  its  own  nervous  substance. 


IDEALISM.  4::t7 

It  is,  then,  by  an  outward  movement  of  the  mind,  that 
matter  is  known,  and  this  is  not  perception  but  inference, 
the  interpretation  of  sensations.     Through  the  notions  of  ex- 
istence and  causation  and  space,  the  mind  estal^lishes  the  ex- 
ternal world.     Sensations,  till  interpreted  and  expounded  by 
judgment,  are  the  crudest  possible  conditions  of  knowledge. 
If  it  be  said,  that  the  act  of  perception  itself  is  the  result 
of  an  outward,  not  an  inward  movement,  that  it  takes  place 
at  the  exterior  tip  of  the  nerve,  and  not  as  the  consequence 
of  physical  effects  traced  to  the  nerve  centres ;  we  say,  that 
the  mind  must  either  pass  perceptively  beyond  the  sensa- 
tional organ,  or  the  perceptive  act  is  still  within  the  human 
body,  and  thus  removed  from  the  object  perceived.     More- 
over  such  a  theory  neglects  the    obvious   ministration  to 
perception  of  all  the  chain  of  nervous  influences  passing  in- 
ward.    If  these  are  means  to  sensation,  they  must  intervene 
between  the  presence  of  the  object  and  the  perception  of  it. 
The  inscrutable  transition  from  a  nervous  state  to  a  feeling 
is  the  last  result  of  the  inner  current.     Of  an  outer  ner- 
vous current,  there  is  no  proof.     The  mind  has  no  further 
perceptive   connection  with  the  object  than  that  in  which 
these  several  conditions  of  the  organ  intervene  between  the 
mind  and  the  object.     The  last  nervous  condition  remain- 
ing, the  sensation  remains. 

§  4.  The  last  system  of  which  we  shall  speak,  is  ideal- 
ism. Idealism  has  peculiar  excellences  and  defects.  It 
seizes  the  most  fundamental  element  of  the  universe,  and 
evolves  all  else  with  consistent  logic  from  it.  It  does  not 
humble  mind  under  the  laws  of  matter,  but  makes  it  the 
source  and  law  of  all  things.  As  all  known  existences  must 
in  some  way  enter  consciousness,  or  be  productive  of  phe- 
nomena there,  it  is  evident  that  idealism  has  no  occasion  to 
lose  or  overlook  any  part  of  knowledge.  Neglecting  that 
inferential  action  of  the  mind  by  which  it  recognizes  the 


448        TEE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

objective  validity  and  relations  of  the  various  sources  of  its 
perceptions  and  sensations,  idealism  is  able,  by  limiting  the 
attention  to  the  phenomena  of  the  internal  world  alone,  to 
trace  the  inherent  relations  among  these,  and  develop  a 
purely  ideal  system  of  purely  ideal  objects.  Herein  there 
is  opportunity  for  great  subtlety,  profoundity,  consistenc}^, 
and  even  breadth  of  thought ;  since  everything,  outer  and 
inner,  finds  representation  here.  If  the  images  of  all  the 
objects  and  events  of  the  external  world  were  brought  to 
the  eye  of  a  spectator  on  a  transparency,  it  is  plain  that  he 
might  form  a  very  inclusive,  and,  in  some  of  its  aspects,  cor- 
rect philosophy  concerning  them.  Consciousness  is  such  a 
screen,  and  the  philosopher,  confining  his  attention  to  this, 
may  evolve  a  very  harmonious  system. 

Idealism  more  signally  than  most  other  theories  fails  of 
being  a  science,  a  knowing  as  actual  that  which  is  con- 
ceived of  as  theoretical.  It  matters  little,  that  the  inherent 
connections  are  necessary,  unless  the  premises  from  point  to 
point  of  the  argument  are  verified  as  real.  The  difficulties 
of  idealism  are  much  the  same  as  those  of  the  a  priori 
proof  of  the  existence  of  God.  An  ideal  conclusion  is 
evolved  from  ideal  premises,  but  as  the  last  do  not  take 
hold  of  the  world  of  facts,  no  more  does  the  first.  Philoso- 
phy is  not  merely  philosoj)hy,  but  science  as  w^ell.  It  pos- 
sesses inductive,  united  with  deductive,  elements.  It  re- 
sembles mixed  rather  than  pure  mathematics.  It  does  not 
start  with  definitions  of  ideal  objects,  but  with  facts. 
Idealism,  on  the  other  hand,  while  contemplating  thought, 
contemplates  it  as  thought  merely,  in  its  formal  relations 
rather  than  in  its  actual,  phenomenal  character  and  foi*ce. 
It  deduces  the  individual  from  the  general.  It  inquires  not 
so  much  what  is  given  actually  and  practically  with  inde- 
pendent testimony  by  the  several  faculties  of  mind,  as  what 
can  be  evolved  from  the  mere  fact  of  thoui]:ht. 


IDEALISM.  44:0 

The  result  is,  that  no  system  is  as  far  removed  from  gen- 
eral belief  and  faith  as  idealism.  N^one  so  signally  fails  to 
recognize  and  expound  the  phenomena  of  mind  under  the 
form  they  actually  assume  in  experience.  It  seems  rather 
a  field  of  intellectual  gymnastics  than  of  sound,  sober  in- 
quiry concerning  things,  corrected  and  guided  each  instant 
by  an  observation  of  facts. 

Idealism  starts  with  assuming  the  least  possible.  It 
would  commence  with  nothing  if  it  could.  It  accej^ts  only 
activity  known  in  consciouness.  It  must  not  even  say  "  an 
action,"  lest  there  should  thus  be  implied  something  which 
is  active.  From  this  it  proceeds  to  develop  matter  and  mind, 
activity  and  divided  activity ;  recognizing  itself  inconsci- 
ousness  by  opposing  to  the  naked  knowing  the  conscious- 
ness of  knowing.  Thus  it  moves  onward,  spinning  a  world 
out  of  its  own  bowels,  and  with  little  more  of  actual  corres- 
pondence of  results  to  the  notions  of  men  than  there  exists 
between  the  threads  of  a  spider's  web  and  the  actual  forces 
which  hold  the  world  together.  Yet  the  idealist  relishes  his 
own  system  none  the  less  for  being  so  stuffed  with  the  ego. 

Scientific  philosophy  does  not  inquire  how  little  it  may 
assume,  but  how  much  it  may  consistently  accept ;  at  how 
many  points  it  has  reached  ultimate  facts.  If  the  idealist 
is  at  liberty  to  regard  the  connections  of  thought  not  as 
fanciful  and  chimerical,  but,  as  they  seem  to  be,  logical  and 
coherent ;  in  short  to  accept  thinking  as  a  valid  and  reliable 
act;  if  he  is  at  liberty  to  assume  memory,  these  necessary 
assumptions  involve  the  fitness  of  still  farther  assumption. 
Are  not  these,  portions  of  a  set  of  powers,  and  if  the  phi- 
losopher avails  himself  of  two,  can  he  do  better  than  to 
avail  himself  of  all  ?  Does  he  trespass  any  more  on  sound 
principles  in  using  the  entire  group  than  in  using  a  part  ? 
Indeed,  does  he  not  act  absurdly  in  employing  thus  adroitly 
a  part,  and   neglecting   the  remainder,   equally  fitted   for 


450        THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

another  and  sj^ecific  purpose  ?  Slionld  it  be  one's  object  to 
see  how  mnch  can  be  done  with  the  least  possible  means, 
or  to  see  how  much  can  be  accomplished  with  all  available 
means  ?  Having  a  clue  ought  he  not  as  a  thinker  to  follow 
it  as  far  as  it  will  carry  him,  and  does  it  not  carry  him  logi- 
cally to  a  faith  in  all  his  faculties,  since  he  must  have  a 
faith  in  a  part  of  them  ?  Possibly,  one  can  hop  a  little  dis- 
tance painfully  on  one  foot ;  is  it,  therefore,  wise  to  sling 
up  the  other?  The  scientific  philosopher  at  once  sets  to 
work  to  determine  by  observation  and  analysis  all  his  facul- 
ties, and  accepts  the  testimony  of  them  all,  as  each  necessary 
to  the  ri^ht  understanding  of -the  peculiar  and  independent 
facts  rendered  by  it. 

Thus  the  idealist  and  the  less  cunning  but  more  wise 
inquirer  begin  at  once  to  diverge.  The  one  constructs  a 
system  of  remarkable  connections,  subtile  and  sagacious,  but 
altogether  airy  and  unsubstantial ;  the  other  acquires  classi- 
fied knowledge,  with  many  lines  of  causation  and  deductive 
relations  in  it ;  often  presenting,  indeed,  inscrutable  points, 
yet  always  having  the  ring  and  firmness  of  facts.  Idealism 
is  ideal ;  science,  the  philosophy  we  seek,  is  actual. 

§  5.  The  system  we  have  now  presented  aims  fully  to 
recognize  the  different,  independent  kinds  of  knowing. 
'Each  of  these  is  ultimate,  and,  therefore,  inexplicable  under 
other  forms  of  knowing.  To  carry  one  faculty  into  the 
province  of  another,  is  to  displace  that  other,  and  with  it 
the  information  it  is  fitted  to  give.  Knowledge,  in  its  last 
analysis,  has  always  a  certain  mystery  about  it  for  the  very 
reason  that  we  can  go  no  farther.  There  is  a  mystery  in  a 
color,  as  green  ;  in  a  taste,  as  sweet ;  in  an  odor,  as  fragrant ; 
in  a  judgment,  pronouncing  the  stone  to  be  hard ;  in  every 
intuition,  as  that  of  a  cause,  of  liberty,  of  the  infinite.  We 
must  not  expect  to  expel  mystery,  but  to  reduce  it  to  a 
.'minimum,  and  place  it  at  the  right  points. 


LIB  ER TT  AND  CA  USA  TION.  45 1 

One  of  the  chief  labors  of  the  philosoplier  is  to  keep  in- 
dependent facilities,  so  recognized  on  adequate  grounds, 
from  devouring:  each  other :  from  makino;  incursions  into 
fields  alien  to  them,  from  refusing  to  accept  what  has  not 
been  submitted  to  themselves,  and  received  their  peculiar 
seal.  The  imagination  and  the  understanding  belong  es- 
pecially to  these  intrusive  faculties,  while  the  intuition  of 
cause,  having  swept  through  the  entire  physical  world,  is 
ever  bent  on  a  raid  into  spiritual  realms.  To  be  ready  to 
recognize,  in  their  unrestricted  forms,  the  facts  of  conscious- 
ness as  revealed  in  the  mind,  in  language,  in  history;  to 
analyze  these  cautiously,  without  bias  and  perversion,  for 
the  discovery  of  the  simple  activities  or  faculties  they  re- 
veal ;  and  afterward  to  hold  fast  to  every  affirmation  of 
these  faculties,  is  the  duty  of  the  wise  cultivator  of  mental 
science.  We  have  a  love  for  science  above  that  for  phil- 
osophy, because  of  this  inductive  element  it  so  obviously 
includes. 

The  confusion  which  arises  from  undue  emphasis  laid 
upon  a  single  faculty  is  seen  in  our  knowledge  of  the  tliing- 
in-itself,  of  raind-in-itself.  These,  w^e  are  said,  not  to  know, 
because  we  can  not  conceive  them.  To  w^ish  to  conceive 
them  is  the  futile  desire  to  put  a  second  circle  of  pheno- 
mena below  the  first  circle.  Such  a  movement  could  ad- 
mit of  no  pause.  The  noumena  must  either  be  resolved  in- 
to phenomena,  or  always  escape  the  imagination.  But  do 
we  not  know  the  noumena,  things-in-themselves  ?  Do  we 
not  know  the  whole  circle  of  efiiects  wdiich  express  them  ? 
What  more  could  we  wish  to  know ;  unless  forsooth,  w^e 
we  are  dissatisfied  with  our  circle  of  senses  and  wish  a 
larger  one  ?  To  desire  to  know"  a  thing  in  one  way,  when 
its  very  nature  only  allows  us  to  know  it  in  another  way, 
is  certainly  an  irrational  impulse. 

The  independent  validity  both  of  causation  and  of  lib- 


452        THE  BEL  A  TION  OF  FORMS  OF  PIIIL  0  SOP  II Y. 

ertj  has  been  recognized.  Each  idea  is  present  to  the  mind 
in  the  spontaneous  explanation  which  it  offers  to  a  certain 
class  of  facts.  They  divide  the  univ^erse  of  events  between 
them.  In  the  one  moiety,  we  have  necessity,  in  the  other, 
liberty ;  in  the  one,  movements  already  conditioned  by  the 
forces  at  work,  in  the  other,  movements  then  and  there 
conditioned  by  the  power  that  initiates  them.  In  their 
relations  to  each  other,  liberty  is  primary,  and  causation 
is  secondary.  Causation  marks  dependence,  a  dependence 
wdiich,  on  its  own  level,  can  find  no  arrest,  no  matter  how 
far  w^e  trace  it.  Events,  follow  them  backward,  forward, 
on  either,  hand,  are  conditioned  one  upon  another ;  forces 
are  already  at  work  accomplishing  the  tasks  assigned  them. 
But  a  first,  an  independent,  an  unconditioned  force  nowhere 
appears.  Causal  action,  therefore,  necessarily  presents  a 
fragmentary  and  partial  character.  Of  it  alone,  there  can 
be  made  u])  no  whole,  no  universe  ;  since  the  more  w^e  have, 
the  more  w^e  demand  to  explain  what  we  have.  The  events 
before  us,  like  the  section  of  a  river,  must  flow  into  and 
flow  out  of  the  horizon.  We  can  reach  no  bemnnino:  and 
no  conclusion,  nor  even  find  diminution  as  we  go  backward, 
or  increase  as  we  go  forward.  The  boundaries  of  our  vision 
enlarge  themselves  in  all  directions,  but  are  always  illusory. 
Liberty,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  extent  of  the  events 
which  spring  from  it,  affords  a  complete  commencement. 
We  need  go  no  farther  back.  An  arrest  is  found  in  it,  and 
the  events  which  flow  thence  are  explained  by  the  form, 
impetus,  and  direction  which  it  has  imparted  to  them. 
Causation  is  necessarily  finite  in  its  manifestation ;  since  it 
inheres  in  a  power  already  jHit  forth,  and  is  conditioned  to  a 
given  number  and  form  of  products.  Liberty  rests  back  on 
the  agent,  never  goes  forth  from  him,  and  partakes,  in  its 
possibilities,  of  the  breadth  and  the  limitations  of  his  facul- 
ties.    It  commands  more  than  the  actual,  to  wit,  the  poten- 


LIBERTY  A^'D  CAUSATION.  453 

tial  of  being.  Infinite  power  can  inhere  in  a  free  personal- 
ity, and  in  no  other  form  of  existence. 

Causation  is  closely  connected  with  sjoace.  It  may  be 
questioned  whether  it  ever  acts  in  any  other  connection- 
It  inheres  in  forces,  and  these  are  put  forth  into  separate, 
spacial  existence.  The  phenomena  of  mind  which  involve 
cause  and  effect  do  so  through  material  dependencies. 
The  mind's  own  action  would  seem  to  be  always  either 
spontaneous  or  free,  that  is  its  spontaneity  is  revealed  under 
the  three  forms  of  thought,  feeling  and  volition.  Liberty, 
in  contra-distinction,  remains  always  in  connection  with  con- 
sciousness. We  can  only  choose  consciously.  Matter  can 
only  be  the  source  of  causative  action.  Mind  is  the  source 
of  spontaneous  and  of  free  action ;  of  spontaneous  action, 
that  is  action  springing  independently  from  it,  though 
often  evoked  by  conditions  not  supplied  by  it ;  of  free 
action,  that  is  action  held  within  the  conditions  which  are 
its  occasion  but  not  bound  to  any  one  of  them. 

Liberty,  again,  lies  back  of  all  causation,  because  the 
whole  flood  of  forces  with  which  human  liberty  plays 
springs  from  the  choice  of  God,  is  but  the  executive  power 
with  which  he  momentarily  sustains  and  accomplishes  his 
purposes.  Here  w^e  reach  another  ultimate  fact.  We  know 
not  how  the  mind  affects  these  secondary  ph3^sical  forces, 
that  in  the  human  body  play  beneath  its  touch.  ISTo  more 
do  we  understand  how  these  imperishable  and  uniform 
forces  on  which  the  universe  is  buoyed,  of  which  it  is  fash- 
ioned, go  forth  from  the  will  of  God.  Their  wholly  finite^ 
yet  rational  character  compels  the  reason  thus  to  refer  them 
to  an  independent,  self-sufficient  and  wise  Source ;  and 
therein  to  complete  the  conception  of  the  universe  in  time 
as  in  space.  A  cord  of  great  length  is  no  more  self-sup- 
porting, no  more  explicable  in  itself,  than  a  shorter  one. 
The  only  idea  which  is,  as  it  w^ere,  spherical,  self-centered, 


454:       THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PniLOSOPHY. 

demanding  nothing,  suffering  nothing  outside  of  itself,  is 
that  of  an  Infinite,  Personal  God,  a  sufficient  source  of  all 
things ;  whose  spontaneity  and  liberty  require  no  explana- 
tion, and  bring  explanation  to  all  beside.  On  this  ground, 
and  on  this  alone,  the  reason  accepts  the  idea,  as  one  by 
which  it  does  see — as  a  sun  that  does  spread  its  light  through 
the  whole  heavens,  leaving  nothing  which  is  not  sought  out 
by  its  rays.  The  final  ^vooi  of  truth  is  the  fact  of  light,  the 
very  fact  of  light  admitting  no  controversy  and  no  denial 
to  those  who  receive  it — to  whom  it  gives  the  power  to  be- 
come the  sons  of  God.  The  real  efficiency  of  every  w^ord 
is  found  in  the  disclosure  of  itself  as  the  light  which  comes 
down  from  heaven. 

§  6.  While  the  division  of  schools  of  philosophy  into 
materialistic,  realistic  and  idealistic  is  simple  and  funda- 
mental, it  does  not  express  with  any  fullness  and  exactness 
the  very  variable  facts  before  us.  We  offer,  therefore,  a 
second  division  more  suggestive  of  this  complexity.* 


Constructive  Idealism. 

Idealism. 

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Materialism. 
Constructive  Materialism. 

We  draw  attention  to  the  direct  contrasts  of  the  inner 
circle,  of  realism  to  nihilism,  of   materialism  to  idealism ; 

*  Consult  recent  British  Philosophy. 


SYSTEMS  OF  PIIILOSOPHT.  455 

and  also  to  tlie  relations  of  the  outer  circle.  This  circle 
turns,  in  its  divisions,  on  the  force  given  to  intuitive  ideas. 

By  realism  we  mean  what  is  sometimes  termed  natural 
realism.  It  is  the  realism  of  Keid  and  Hamilton.  Each 
act  of  perception  is  said  to  include,  as  an  indivisible  constit- 
uent, the  direct  knowledge  of  both  matter  and  mind.  Ma- 
terialism is  the  identification  of  matter  and  mind  as  two 
forms  of  the  same  experience ;  this  is  the  method  of  M. 
Taine.  Idealism  is  the  absorption  of  all  being  into  proces- 
ses of  mind,  after  the  manner  of  Fichte  and  Hegel.  Ni- 
hilism is  the  denial  of  all  knowledge,  phenominal  and  con- 
structive. The  impressions  we  call  knowledge  are  merely 
impressions  afloat  w^ith  other  impressions,  reflections  in  a 
stream  which  may  disappear  at  any  moment. 

Constructive  realism  is  realism  reached  as  the  result  of 
the  combined  action  of  our  perceptions,  intuitions  and  judg- 
ments. It  is  the  realism  ottered  in  this  work.  Construc- 
tive materialism  is  the  materialism  of  Spencer.  It  gathers 
the  constructive  laws  of  thought  from  the  phenomena 
known  as  physical,  and  builds  the  universe,  both  physical 
and  intellectual,  by  means  of  them.  It  afiirms  nothing  as 
to  ultimate,  substantial  being  ;  but  phenominal  being  it  puts 
exclusively  under  the  laws  of  matter.  Constructive  ideal- 
ism declares  that  all  the  forms  of  knowledge  are  purely 
mental,  and  cannot  be  said  to  be  forms  of  matter.  Thus 
matter,  when  its  existence  is  allow^ed,  is  not  known  under 
its  own  types.  Substantially  and  phenominally  it  is  hidden 
from  us.  Constructive  idealism  rests  chiefly  on  the  works 
of  Kant. 

A  measure  of  agnosticism  is  involved  in  opposite  direc- 
tions in  both  constructive  materialism  and  constructive  ideal- 
ism. When  these  two  incapacities  are  united,  we  have 
agnosticism  ;  and  agnosticism  may  easily  lapse  into  nihilism 
— the  antithetical  point  to  realism.     Hume  is  the  best  expo- 


456        THE  RELATION  OF  FORMS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

nent  of  iiiliilism.  The  circuit  on  either  hand  through  ideal- 
ism or  materialism  involves  a  decay  of  power,  and  so  leads 
on  to  nihilism.  Pure  Positive  Philosophy  is  agnosticism. 
It  directs  attention  wholly  to  phenomena. 

A  ninth  central  school  might  be  added,  that  of  identifi- 
cation ;  but  it  has  not  gained,  and  can  not  readily  gain,  any 
clear  expression.  Matter  and  mind  are  to  be  united  in  one 
concurrent  line  of  evolution.     This  is  the  goal  of  Hegel. 

It  has  been  our  purpose  to  draw  cardinal  lines  firmly, 
and  this  farther  division  is  added  simply  as  provocative  of 
historical  inquiry. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Abstraction,  153. 

Actions  as  voluntary,  395  ;  as  conscious,  396. 

Affections,  311  ;  natural  affections,  320  ;  affections,  350. 

Analysis,  153. 

Animals,  their  powers,  295  ;  tricks,  298  ;  training,  298 ;  language,  300 ; 

manner  of  judgment,  300  ;  character,  301  ;  sagacity,  302  ;  feelings, 

361  ;  actions,  392. 
Appetites,  317. 
Association,  subconscious  facts,  43  ;  memory,  133,  138,  175  ;  laws,  172, 

174  ;  beauty,  240  ;  power  of  mind,  291 ;  animals.  301  ;  feelings,  366. 
Attention,  what,  291  ;  to  more  than  one  thing,  291. 
Automatic  action,  385,  395. 

B. 

Bain,  Prof.,  imagination,  143,  144,  147  ;  judgment,  162  ;  existence,  181  ; 
space,  196;  cause  and  effect,  210,  213;  right,  228,  233 ;  feelings, 
314  ;  nervous  system,  383,  386  ;  liberty,  412,  424. 

Beauty  as  an  idea,  240  ;  feelings,  342. 

Bentham,  J.,  morals,  239. 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  perception,  111. 

Brain,  relations  to  mind,  56  ;  functions,  383 ;  superiority  in  man,  387, 
394. 

Bridgman,  Laura,  276. 

c. 

Carpenter,  W.   B.,  unconscious  cerebration,   50,   53  ;  brain,   388 ;   will, 

418,  423. 
Cause  and  effect,  an  idea,  209  ;  nature  of,  210,  218;  growth  of  mind, 

281 ;  relation  to  liberty,  420,  421,  451. 
Cerebration,  49,  55. 
Chance  and  liberty,  411. 
Choice,  31,  346. 


458  INDEX. 

Classification,  153,  157. 

Conceivable  imagination,  151  ;  judgment,  170  ;  infinite,  250. 

Conception,  153 ;  couceptionalist,  158. 

(Conditioned,  law  of,  214,  247. 

Conscience,  231,  239  ;  custom,  232  ;  feelings,  347. 

Consciousness,  nature  of,  20  ;  truthfulness,  21  ;  relation  to  intelligence, 

69  ;  to  facts,  123 ;  to  judgments,  161  ;  to  existence,  181 ;  as  an  idea, 

201  ;  to  action,  396  ;  to  liberty,  411,  420. 
Correlation  of  forces,  442. 

D. 

Darwin,  imagination,  145;  gemmules,  212. 

Deduction,  283,  288. 

Descartes,  perception,  108,  111. 

Desires,  323  ;  classes,  325  ;  relation  to  pleasure,  327 ;  strength  of,  328 

dependent  feelings,  329. 
Dynamics  of  intellect,  268 ;  of  feelings,  355  ;  of  will,  425. 

E. 

Equilibrist,  subconscious  states,  41. 
Esthetical  feelings,  342. 
Ethical  feelings,  340. 
Existence,  an  idea,  179. 
Extension,  a  primary  quality,  116. 
External  world,  knowledge  of,  112. 

F. 

Feelings,  306  ;  distinctions,  307  ;  divisions,  309  ;  Physical  Feelings,  812 ; 
general  sensations,  313  ;  special  sensations,  315  ;  appetites,  317  ; 
relation  to  pleasure,  319  ;  natural  affections,  320  ;  Intellectual  Feel- 
ings, 322  ;  primary,  322  ;  wit,  humor,  325  ;  desires,  323  ;  secondary, 
329  ;  success,  329  ;  failure,  332  ;  Spiritiial  Feelings,  337  ;  divisions, 
338  ;  nature,  338  ;  truth,  339  ;  beauty,  342  ;  right,  346  ;  obedience, 
348  ;  disobedience,  349  ;  modifications,  350  ;  diagram,  352  ;  relation 
to  action,  355  ;  growth,  357  ;  collective  growth,  359  ;  animal  life, 
361  ;  relation  to  right,  362  ;  laws,  363  ;  mind  as  a  whole,  426  ; 
pleasures,  430  ;  restfulness,  431. 

Ferrier,  D.,  64. 

a. 

Generalization,  153. 


INDEX.  459 

H. 

Habit,  memory,  134. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  phrenology,  20  ;  desires,  30  ;  consciousness,  33  ;  sub- 
consciousness, 34,  38  ;  mind  always  active,  73,  77  ;  perception,  87, 
•94,  96,  100  ;  qualities  of  matter,  110,  121  ;  memory,  128;  imagina- 
tion, 143  ;  judgment,  160,  161,  105;  association,  172;  conscious- 
ness,  204  ;  causation,  214  ;  infinite,  245,  247  ;  logic,  285  ;  emotions, 
355  ;  subconsciousness,  393  ;  liis  system,  445,  455. 

Hartley,  association,  173. 

Hickok,  L.,  259. 

Hypnotism,  67. 

I. 

Idealism,  86  ;  perception,  91  ;  as  a  system,  447. 

Ideas,  regulative,  177  ;  bow  arise,  178  ;  what,  179  ;  criteria,  254  ;  charac- 
ter, 256  ;  relation  to  inheritance,  260  ;  to  instinct,  261  ;  grouped, 
263  ;  are  these  all  ?  263. 

Imagination,  142  ;  theories,  143  ;  influence,  147  ;  strength,  151  ;  incon- 
ceivable, 151  ;  condition  of  feeling,  367. 

Induction,  283,  288. 

Infinite,  an  idea,  243  ;  in  connection  with  space,  243  ;  with  time,  244  ; 
with  God,  246  ;  nature,  249. 

Intellect,  divisions,  79  ;  dynamics,  208. 

Intellection  in  morals,  227. 

Intelligence  and  consciousness,  46. 

Irritability,  321. 

J. 

Judgment,  perception,  84,  102  ;  a  power,  153  ;  processes  included,  154  ; 
kinds,  164,  166,  169  ;  inconceivable,  170  ;  office,  171  ;  association, 
175. 

K. 

Kant,  desires,  30  ;  categories,  266  ;  feelings,  306. 
Knowledge  relative,  114. 

L. 

Language  and  philosophy,  24,  27  ;  perception,  95  ;  animals,  301  ;  relation 

to  thought,  396. 
Lewes,  G.  H.,  45. 


4  GO  INDEX. 

Liberty,  an  idea,  221  ;  what,  401  ;  conditions,  402  ;  strongest  motive, 
404;  motives,  404  ;  objections,  409  ;  proof,  411  ;  spontaneity,  417  ; 
proofs  summarized,  421  ;  causation,  451. 

Life,  what,  372 ;  forms,  375. 

Locke,  12  ;  perception,  110 ;  qualities  of  matter,  121. 

Logic,  285. 

M. 

Mallock,  W.  H.,  429. 

Man  contrasted  with  animal,  295. 

Martineau,  J.,  420. 

Materialism,  441. 

^Matter,  primary  and  secondary  qualities,  116  ;  existence,  438. 

Maudsley,  Dr.,  37  ;  memory,  128. 

Memory,  subconscious  states,  38  ;  a  power,  125  ;  physical  states,  127 ; 
theories,  128;  association,  133,  138  ;  relations,  134;  qualities,  136; 
phases,  137  ;  cultivation,  140. 

Mental  science,  limits,  19,  71  ;  difficulties,  22  ;  aids,  27 ;  divisions,  30. 

Mesmerism,  67. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  285  ;  causation,  210 ;  right,  233  ;  logic,  285  ;  materialism,  444, 
445. 

Mind,  relation  to  brain,  56  ;  mastery,  59  ;  constant  activity,  72  ;  growth, 
269  ;  power  over  itself,  290  ;  relations  to  cerebrum,  396,  398  ;  gov- 
ernment, 428  ;  nature,  430. 

Minimum,  visible,  40. 

Mnemonics,  142. 

Moral  nature,  224  ;  sentiments,  346. 

Motives,  404 ;  stern  and  weak,  405. 

Muller,  imagination,  144. 

Murphy,  J.  J.,  intelligence  and  consciousness,  46,  204 ;  consciousness,  a 
feeling,  48. 

Mystery,  450. 

N. 

Nervous  system,  371  ;  office,  372  ;  parts,  373  ;  forms,  375  ;  in  man,  378 

offices,  381  ;  modifications,  385. 
Nominalism,  158. 
Number,  an  idea,  183. 

0. 

Ontology,  453. 

Order  of  development,  268,  426. 


INDEX.  461 

P. 

Perception,  nature,  80  ;  organs,  83  ;  objects,  83  ;  judgments,  84,  101,  104  ; 
statement  of  doctrine,  93  ;  consciousness,  94  ;  data,  97  ;  not  direct, 
99  ;  eye,  101,  103  ;  ear,  104;  importance,  107  ;  history,  108;  rela- 
tion to  philosophy,  113,  445. 

Philosopliy,  advantages,  3  ;  progress,  8  ;  postulates,  13. 

Phrenology,  39. 

Plato,  158,  185. 

Play  and  labor,  433. 

Postulates,  13,  435. 

Power  of  mind,  145,  436. 


Q. 


Quain's  anatomy,  380. 
Qualities  of  matter,  116. 


E. 


Realism,  158  ;  as  a  system  of  philosophy,  435,  451,  453. 

Reason,  176  ;  what  it  gives,  179,  397. 

Reasoning,  384  ;  kinds,  386,  388. 

Reid,  13 ;  perception,  87. 

Relation  as  an  idea,  360. 

Relativity  of  knowledge,  114. 

Resemblance  as  an  idea,  185  ;  growth  under,  379  ;  science,  380. 

Right  as  an  idea,  334. 


s. 

Sagacity  in  animals,  303. 

Science  and  resemblance,  380. 

Sensations,  80  ;  growth,  369  ;  feelings,  313. 

Sight,  101. 

Sleep,  67. 

Somnambulism,  67. 

Space  as  an  idea,  188. 

Spencer,  mind  and  brain,  63;  judgment,  163;  association,  173;  space, 
186,  191,  196,  198  ;  time,  305  ;  causation,  313  ;  right,  338  ;  infinite, 
251  ;  ideas  objective,  357  ;  inheritance,  260  ;  dynamics,  368  ;  feel- 
ings, 315  ;  systems,  455. 

Spinal  cord,  378,  381. 


^62  INDEX. 

Spontaneity,  221,  419. 
Subconsciousness,  34,  70. 
Synthesis,  153. 

Systems,  434  ;  materialism,  441  ;  Hamilton,  445  ;  idealism,  447  ;  realism, 
450 ;  arrangement,  453. 

T. 

Taine,  M.,  384. 

Temperament,  426. 

Time  as  an  idea,  204. 

Todd  and  Bowman,  382. 

Training  in  animals,  299. 

Truth  as  an  idea,  224 ;  feelings,  339. 

u. 

( 

Unconscious  cerebration,  49,  55. 
Understanding,  125. 
Utility,  226. 


'O' 


V. 

Vertebrates,  387. 

Vision,  monocular,  106  ;  stereoscopic,  106 

Vital  action  and  volition,  392. 

Volition,  31  ;  divisions,  391,  400 ;  executive,  391  ;  primary,  400. 

AV. 

Whitney,  W.  D.,  animals,  286. 
Will,  369  ;  control,  425. 


THE    END 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 


A  History  of  American  Literature.  By  Moses  Coit  Tylkr,  Pro- 
fessor of  English  Literature  in  the  University  of  Michigan.  Volumes 
I  and  II,  comprising  the  period,  1607-1765.  Large  8vo,  about  700 
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esides  the  biographical  narrative,  which  is  enlivened  by  many  fresh  anecdotes,  tlie 
writer  attempts  to  present  such  a  connected  view  of  French  political  history  for  the 
last  fifty  years,  as  will  throw  light  upon  the  present  crisis  in  France,  so  incomprehen- 
sible to  most  Americans.  The  work  will  also  be  interesting  as  an  able  defense  of  the 
unity  of  Thiers'  political  life,  a  position  rarely  assumed  by  even  the  most  ardent  friends 
of  the  great  statesman.  It  is  illustrated  by  a  fac-simile  of  his  handwriting  and  auto- 
graph, a  view  of  his  home,  etc. 

BRIEF  BIOGRAPHIES.  First  Series.  Contemporary  States- 
men of  Europe.  Edited  by  Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson. 
They  are  handsomely  printed  in  square  i6mo,  and  attractively  bound  in 

cloth  extra.      Price  per  vol $i   50 

Vol.    I.     English  Statesmen.     By  T.  W.  Higginson. 
"     II.     English  Radical  Leaders.     By  R.  J.  Hinton. 
"  III.     French  Leaders.     By  Edward  King. 
"    IV.     German  Political  Leaders.     By  Herbert  Tuttle. 

These  volumes  are  planned  to  meet  the  desire  which  exists  for  accurate  and  graphic 
information  in  regard  to  the  leaders  of  political  action  in  other  countries.  They  will 
give  portraitures  of  the  men  and  analysis  of  their  lives  and  work,  that  will  be  vivid  and 
picturesaue,  as  well  as  accurate  and  faithful,  and  that  will  combine  the  authority  of 
careful  historic  narration  with  the  interest  attaching  to  anecdote  and  persona' 
delineation. 

"  Compact  and  readable    *    *    *    leaves  little  to  be  desired."— uV.  F.  iV«/'/tf«. 


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